Boots Are Lonely, But They'd Never Admit It
by Djali is Queen
Summary: When Lillian moved to Forget-Me-Not-Valley to live with Claire, her penpal of two years, she wasn't sure what to expect-besides trees, animals, hillbillies. Now she's finding out there's more to the country than meets the eye. Skye/OC/Grey Claire/Marlin
1. Chapter I

Lillian walked down the unpaved roads of Forget-Me-Not Valley hoping that someone would stop her and tell her where she was. It was odd for her not to know where she was going, but at the same time she loved it more than anything else in the world. She loved the feeling of freedom and the nomadic sensation of being completely lost. All the same, it wasn't a feeling she expected to last. As soon as she found her way to the Inn that Claire had talked about, or the farm itself... Lillian paused and tried to collect her thoughts; she tried to remember where Claire had said the farm was (middle of the valley), tried to remember where the Inn was (middle of the valley), and tried very hard to remember the name of the farmer who owned the other farm in the Valley. It started with a V.

Absentmindedly she continued to ramble down the mountainside, when she realized the farm that wasn't Claire's was on either side of two bone-white spines running along the main road; it was the one where Claire's boyfriend lived. Her 'boyfriend:' the unofficial one who wouldn't admit he liked her but who Claire secretly thought liked the other girl working on the farm. Lillian couldn't resist the opportunity to meet the 'boyfriend.' She walked across the road to the house that was closest to her and knocked on the door. From deep inside the small farm house came a loud, rolling laugh, and then a voice called out, inviting Lillian inside.

As soon as Lillian walked in the room she could feel the warm welcome feeling of the country. It wasn't something she was used to. She had lived in the inner city for such a long time that something so rural but loving was, not quite new, but different to her. She tried to hide her smile.

Lillian closed the door behind her before she looked around. A small kitchen with a brown cabinet, a table for three, a bookshelf, two beds, blue and red, a large woman with voluminous, frazzled, brown hair in jeans and red tennis shoes, a yellow shirt and an apron, and next to the table, a man: that was the one Claire had been talking about, and Lillian knew it; thick, slick black hair, big eyebrows above a set of pretty blue-green eyes, a stern jaw, and a slightly open white t-shirt. She had to admit he was cute. If she wasn't sure of Claire's complete and undying love for him Lillian would have made a move. Instead she tried for directions.

'I'm really sorry if I interrupted anything, but my name is Lillian Sierzant. I'm Claire's friend. I don't know if she told you about me…'

The woman( whose name Lillian was sure started with Ve- (like ve-getable)) seemed to know exactly who the girl was and, as she wiped her hands clean and turned away from the sink, began to speak, almost shout, a response.

'Claire's friend, huh? Well any friend of Claire's is a friend of ours. I don't think I heard anything about you though. Marlin, did she tell you anything?'

The black haired man nodded his head and gave Lillian a small smile (she could definitely see why Claire would put up with the man who looked so sour upon first glance now.)

'Claire said something about you.'

Lillian smiled back at him and nodded her head. There had been a small metal ball tossing around inside of her, and suddenly it stopped rattling: she was glad that Claire had found a man who, unlike many of Lillian's previous boyfriends, had a glimmer of sincerity and kindness behind his solemn exterior. Although it was a bit sudden to make presumptions, Lillian was glad that he didn't seem to be a complete ass. Lillian had never been quite so fortunate, and seemed to have rather terrible taste in men, and experience had taught her that the quiet, brooding type always seemed to be the worst. But her experience with men had also given her bits of insight into the human heart, and the man standing across the room did not hold the haughty air that some did; he was simply shy.

The loud roar of the ketchup and mustard woman's laughter brought Lillian out of her thoughts. 'So what brings you to our farm?'

'Well, I was headed to Claire's place, but I of have no idea where I'm going, and your farm was right here, and I thought I remembered Claire saying something about the two of you so I thought I would swing by. Though I thought there were three… Actually I was hoping for some directions or-'

'Marlin! What do you say to giving little Miss Lillian a tour? It's nice and warm out today, and I'm sure it wouldn't hurt to say hello to Claire. You haven't talked to her in a while.'

'Well… I guess I could.' Lillian noticed that Marlin was blushing and could only hope it was because of the woman's mentioning Claire. That would suite her just fine; and, of course, it provided her with something to wave in Claire's face.

'Thank you very much, Marlin.' She nodded happily to the man, who was now standing at her side before turning and nodding at his aunt. 'And you too… Vesta. It was a pleasure meeting you.'

Vesta laughed as Marlin and Lillian went through the door, for she knew full well that the new girl wasn't an idiot and she hoped that the sprite could help bring Claire and her faithful helper a little bit closer together. But it was only a small hope. When the door had closed, Vesta turned back to washing her vegetables, humming a quirky little melody and wondering when her dear Celia return home.

The walk to Claire's ranch took a little bit over an hour of awkward silence and a poor attempt at conversation. Still, by the end of the walk Lillian had managed to learn a little bit about Marlin, Vesta and the other girl who lived there, Celia. Marlin was Vesta's brother (Lillian was a little taken aback at the sheer difference between the two), and Celia was just sort of there ('She's from the city too,' he had muttered, but he wouldn't go into further details). A little while ago he had been struck with some terrible illness, which was why Vesta had added the part about the nice day. As they chatted Lillian understood why Claire was so convinced that the hunched farm boy liked Celia; he did. Not that he had told her that, but he had a look in his eyes, and a gentle air when he spoke of her; even from those few short sentences that he had managed to say about her Lillian could tell that there was something between the two. But—she noticed slyly—he had a similar gleam in his eyes when she mentioned Claire. Maybe the guy wouldn't be a completely lost cause.

'So, are you going to come in with me?' Lillian asked once they had reached the farm. 'I'm sure that Claire would appreciate some more familiar company.'

Marlin raised an eyebrow. '"More familiar company?"'

'Oh. Right. I didn't really… Well, my dad knew hers, but we've never met before. We've just been sending mail back and forth. We're friends though. I suppose we're pen pals more than anything else.'

Although visibly confused, Marlin nodded his head. He thought it was nice of Claire to invite an almost complete stranger into her house. It was one of the man things he liked about her: she was exceedingly kind. Then again, neither he nor Claire had any idea who this woman was. His eyes drifted around his head to look at Lillian who was focusing on the farm as they neared Claire's house. He would go with her: just in case.

Marlin sped up to the door and knocked. From inside the hose came nothing but a long and heavy silence, as if Claire was out and had forgotten about meeting her friend completely. Marlin thought that he might go around the house and check into the barn, but, after a moment, there was a crash, and then the cat was wailing, the dog barking and someone, presumably Claire, was yelling. Lillian laughed.

'Do you think she's all right?' she said through a pitiless smile. Marlin nodded, even though he himself wasn't entirely too sure: she could be rather klutzy sometimes. He just hoped she wasn't _too_ badly hurt. Worry struck him and he knocked on the door one last time, just to play it safe.

'Sorry! You can come in! Oh! Oscar! No! I need that!'

What followed were a series of crashes, more yelling, more barking, a hiss, Oscar yelping, Claire screaming and a thud. After several seconds of shocked silence Marlin opened the door and walked in, Lillian following close behind.

Claire's house was a mess. There was a pot that had been knocked to the floor, one that might have at one point in time been filled with something that wasn't the black ooze spilling over the brim and onto cold wood floors. There was a series of paw prints that smeared across the floor one or two that stuck to the wall, a pile of grasses on the counter next to a spilled black beverage. Sitting at the top of a book case was a sleek black cat, glaring at Claire's dog, Oscar, on the other side of the room right in front of a staircase. Sprawled out on her stomach on the floor was a petit blonde who was covered in a number of small scratches and little stains from whatever it was that she had been cooking.

'Ow~'

'Claire!'

Marlin ran over to the place where Claire lay barely breathing on the floor. He knelt at her side as he gently rubbed her shoulder, trying to revive her. Lillian stood back and watched the scene with the smallest growing interest. She hadn't known Claire for very long but she definitely had learned a thing or two about her, and, ever so gradually, had come to care for the girl and look forward to her weekly letter. She had learned that Claire was a sweet, innocent young girl with a love for so many things. Lillian had grown very fond of the traits in Claire that were so rare in the city and now she wanted to see if this boy was really good enough for her. So, with all the intense gaze of a hawk, she watched them.

Claire was laying on her stomach, one arm holding up her head. As soon as she realized who was at her side she was almost up. She craned her neck and lifted her chest off the floor, keeping her hands down for support: up dog.

'Oh. Marlin… Hi… Um…'

'Are you all right?'

'Yeah. Sure. I'm sorry if I scared you… Um… Yeah… It was just Oscar, and then Yori and then…' Claire laughed a little and pulled herself into a cross-legged sit. 'I'm fine, I promise. Erm…' She quickly lowered her voice and turned her eyes to the ceiling. 'Just… ignore what I was baking…'

With Marlin's back turned toward Lillian she couldn't see the warm smile that he gave Claire before he offered his arm out to her, or the slight blush that rose to his cheeks as he helped her to her feet, but somehow, Lillian knew that something had happened. A small smirk spread across the city girl's lips as she took a step further into the room, drawing Claire's attention away from Marlin.

'Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't see you there.' Claire beamed at her and held out one of her claw mark covered hands. 'I don't think we've met.'

Lillian's smirk spread into a wide smile as she opened her arms. 'Maybe not met, but Claire, darling, I can't believe you wouldn't recognize the woman who's going to be living with you.'

Shock flickered into Claire's eyes. The next words that tumbled out of her mouth were stuttered (O-Oh!) and seemed to hold an air of recognition and glee. Claire tumbled over her own feet as she rushed to the other side of the room. Within seconds Claire had flung herself onto Lillian, wrapping her arms around the taller girl's neck.

'Oh my gosh! I can't believe it! It's so nice to finally-' Claire pulled back so that she could see Lillian's face. 'Oh! And you're so pretty! Those pictures did _not_ do you justice. And you're taller too! Not fair! Oh, I am just so happy that you're living in the Valley now! I have been waiting forever to meet you and-' Claire caught her breath and, never letting go of Lillian, turned to face Marlin. 'I take it you've met, huh?'

Lillian saw the blush on Claire's face, and could only imagine that it was caused by Claire sudden inattention to Marlin and the explosive delight that she had just shown in front of the dour young man.

Marlin smiled at Claire, a full smile that caught Lillian completely off guard, and nodded. Lillian tipped her head forward and whispered just quietly enough so that only she and Claire could hear, 'So he's the guy, huh?'

Again Claire began to blush and Marlin seemed struck by a bolt of confusion. Claire tried to cover it up by commenting on how hot the autumn weather was but Lillian couldn't really see it working the way that she way sure Claire wanted it to. Marlin gave a small laugh before he spoke again. 'I guess I should give you two sometime alone.'

Rather surprised by the sudden offer to leave Claire tried to speak up and prevent Marlin from leaving, but his insistence and his overwhelming dedication to his work seemed to win out and within four minuets Marlin was gone.

With her most prominent infatuation walking back to his farm, Claire turned around. 'Well, hello!' She squealed happily. 'It's so wonderful to finally meet you. Um… I guess… Well, I'm Claire.'

'I figured,' Lillian said, smiling and giving off a small chuckle. 'It really is a pleasure. I can't believe that we're finally meeting. How has hick life been treating you?'

Claire pouted through a smile and rubbed her forearm bashfully. 'Ouch. Hick life? Well… It's not as bad as you think, I promise. I mean, there's a lot to do around here.'

Lillian smiled down at Claire, maneuvering her way through the kitchen and toward the oven where a smoldering pile was being inspected by Claire's cat. Lillian stoked the cats back for a moment then settled her fingers behind its ears where she scritched and scratched him.

'So this is the infamous Yori?'

'Yeah.' Claire moved across the room, pulling a broom from the side of a chest and walked into the kitchen. 'He's not normally this energetic. I think he felt something changing. Either you or the air.'

'Whatever it is he made quite the mess. Can I help you clean it up?'

Bending slightly at the knees and rocking back and forth on her heels, Claire mulled the offer over. 'You just got here,' she rationalized.

'I don't mind. Marlin helped me bring my bags in already. Though I'm not sure if this is where I'm sleeping yet…' Diana's eyes slowly crossed the spotted room where even the handsome grey walls had speckled prints dancing across them. It was quite spacious, two doors at one end, the bathroom and the toilet she assumed, a staircase leading into the basement, two boxes by the door, a bookshelf, a great round table where she was certain Claire and she would eat their meals, maybe accompanied on occasion by Marlin or another not as loved villager. The bed was quite large, definitely big enough for two, a king, though she wasn't certain Claire would want to share her sleep with another woman.

'I think I've got it all worked out. Cody—he's a friend of mine, an artist—he told me he has a spare couch which folds into a bed and that I could have it.' Claire twirled the air with one hand as she smiled, saying, 'It's a bit sparse in here anyway. A couch might be nice.'

'Claire, there is no couch.'

'Oh, not today; that's the only flaw in the plan. He said he was going to make it up a bit for me, have it fit the room a little nicer; he does that for me sometimes: makes things nicer. The bed for instance,' she pointed to the great, dark-skinned giant with intricate metal work around the legs, 'he did that and the shelves and those chests by the door; he does all sorts of nice things for me if I can find him the metals. Of course, Gotz did a special number on the kitchen.'

'I think you told me that. He had the boy from the town over help?'

'Mm-hm. They were so sweet to do it for me. After they'd finished I made them both a big dinner with baked corn and apple pie. Grey nearly smothered me. Gotz just laughed like a mad man, but that's kind of what he does.'

Claire flew across the room to one of her dark-wood chests and snapped a broom and dust pan out. She stretched a timid arm out and Lillian took the pan, taking to her knees while Claire swept away the pitter patter of pussycat paw prints.

'So what exactly is it with you and Marlin?'

'What?' Claire stumbled only slightly as she swept, bringing up a small cloud of powder. They both coughed lightly, Lillian through a smile. She shifted her position, coming off of her knee and simply crouching, scooting back far enough to gather more dust.

'Oh come off it, Claire. You write me about him all the time. I'm not an idiot. You're mad about him. There must be something happening between you two.'

'Lilly, that's silly. Marlin and I are just friends. We swap gardening tips, not saliva. Really… you just get here and you're gossiping already.'

'So… you're telling me that nothing has ever happened between you and Marlin?'

'No! I swear, we're just really good friends, that's all. I mean, down on Vesta's ranch there's Celia and she's a good friend of mine too, and she once told me that she… had feelings for Marlin.' Claire took the phrase delicately as she swept, modesty lingering over a fine agitation. 'I could never do anything to hurt her.'

'But nothing's sparked between you? I mean, hasn't he ever…'

When Lillian stopped speaking Claire's eyes grew large with confusion. 'What? Like, kissed me?' she managed with some sensibility, though Lillian could see the blush painted proudly across her friend's face.

'You never left high school did you? I'm not talking about just kissing and I'm not focusing on sex. What I mean is do you and Marlin just stare at each other with big doe eyes, or do you two flirt and smile and say dumb things, or sometimes when he comes into a room, does every modicum of speech melt from your brain and into your stomach?'

'I dunno, Lilly. I don't think—well, maybe… but it's nothing, I swear. You know what,' Claire leaned into her broom, producing a fine veil of dust that swam high into the air and settled just at eye level, 'If you want to know something _sweet_he's done for me, there was a time, one tiny little moment, when I came into the bar, the one just down the road, right as everyone else was leaving. It was just Marlin, and Griffin and Muffy behind the counter, so Marlin invited me to drink with him. Of course, he wasn't drinking. Well, I… I guess it hadn't been the best day, I had to take care of one of my cows who was sick, and I was a little bit tired so I slugged a few back and before I knew it I could feel him lifting me up…' Claire's grip on her broom handle tightened and for just a moment she closed her eyes.

'You are absolutely in love with him, aren't you?'

With an echoing thud Claire fell to the ground. She pushed her upper body up quickly and began to explain that Marlin was just a friend, just a good friend, that she didn't love him at all, at least, she loved him as much as any friend and that it was perfectly normal to feel the way she did about him. Claire smiled.

'First of all,' Lillian reached over to Claire's cheek, rubbing a giant black splotch from her face with a hand towel she had picked up from the floor, 'it is perfectly normal for you to feel this way Claire. You see Marlin every day and you say hello, and you are perfectly courteous. At the beginning of every season you buy your seeds from Vesta and you see Marlin there. And what do you do when you brew a fresh batch of wines? You bring him a bottle, naturally. But is it because he's a friend, Claire? That other man, what's his name: the bartender?'

'Griffin,' she breathed on a blush.

'Griffin. You bring him wine too, but you never wrote me of him as you did of Marlin. There was never the avid infatuation that you relate with Marlin. You see Griffin as a fatherly figure. You've even paired him with… the blond girl?'

'M-Muffy.'

'See? My second point is that the girl you mentioned earlier, Celia,' Lillian pulled the broom from underneath her fallen companion and, still crouching, began to collect the little footprints that splattered across the floor, 'You didn't even mention her the second time you tried to rationalize your feelings for Marlin. And you've even written me of her obliviousness. She doesn't seem to think of Marlin as much more than a brother.'

'They kissed once!'

'And that was because you tripped and Marlin fell under the mistletoe that Vesta had set up. It was your poor coordination and Celia kissed him on the cheek. There.' All the soot was gone, although in the kitchen there still remained a festering pile of black ooze. Lillian walked to the rubbish bin and emptied her tray. 'Now how do you suppose we clean this all up?'


	2. Chapter II

After a week had passed little had changed. There was an auburn couch stretched out across the room that made Claire's home and the two girls had become increasingly close, but the life and ways of the Valley swayed on with a gentile persistence. Lillian had noticed the tug of something she could not place her finger on; maybe it was destiny or some such nonsense, but she felt herself being pulled into the flow of life, drawn by her chest while her arms flailed behind her. She never tried to tell Claire this when they watered the crops in the early morning or when they forked bales of hay into troughs so that the cows and sheep and Claire's horse, Liberté, might eat, but it lingered inside her brain. Life in the reclusive town was hard in a primal sort of way, but Lillian found it to be more enjoyable than she wanted to admit. Still… there was something missing.

'Do you ever feel alone Claire?'

'Alone?'

'Yes, alone: as though… as though there's something missing from your life.'

The farmer cocked her head toward the rafters of the barn and shoveled a great bale of hay into a trough. 'Well,' she began thoughtfully, 'Maybe sometimes I do, but… no. No, I don't really think I do.' She smiled cheerily at her friend. 'I'm quite happy, even if I do have to clean the barn and work all day. I have wonderful friends—'

'Thank you.'

'And a beautiful home, and,' Claire stared with hesitant bashfulness at her friend, 'if I go along with what you think, I have a man who I am madly in love with.'

'And he loves you too.'

'Oh, shut up,' Claire cried as she pitched a fork full of hay at her friend. Lillian laughed, flinging her arms out in defense, and soon all the animals were baying in protest. 'What I'm trying to say,' Claire managed through a laugh, 'is that I'm happy here. It's... it's not too dull, living on a farm, is it?'

When Lillian looked up, she had to lean her pitchfork against the barn wall. There was an expression of sheer worry on the farmer's face, and upsetting a new friend was the last thing she wanted to do. 'Oh, Claire, it hasn't anything to do with farming. I don't know what I was thinking. It's just a silly question, that's all.' Lillian walked across the barn and slipped her hand around Claire's waist, laughing on the air. 'I like it here. It's so much more relaxing than the city.'

A small smiled slipped onto Claire's lips, but there was still anxiety in her eyes.

'Sure, it's relaxing, but is it too relaxing? I mean, is there too little for you to do?'

'I've only been here a week-'

'A week is long enough to know if you'll be happy for a while.'

Lillian shook Claire's little body from side to side, and gave a small chuckle, trying to reassure her friend. 'I don't know quite yet, but I'm getting used to it still. I'll admit, I miss the city, but that's because I'm so used to working and moving all the time. There are no distractions here. I do chores with you in the morning, we go out and pick flowers and grass and berries, and then we come home. There's the inn and the bar and the hot springs, and I do admit I like to wander off into the mines sometimes-'

'You should borrow my axe and my hammer and my hoe sometime!'

'Sure, I'll do that. Find you something nice, you dork," Lillian chuckled, tapping her friend on the nose with her fist. "But, honestly, I just need some busy work. Let me warm up to the place; find something to keep me engaged. Then I promise I won't ask you if you ever get lonely.'

'Maybe,' said Claire, wiggling away from Lillian's long arms and getting back to pitching hay, 'I could set you up with someone.' The girl kept her eyes to her work as she continued. 'Every guy in town is really sweet. You've met Marlin, but, uh, he's kind of-'

'I wouldn't dream of it.'

'Yeah. And then there's Griffin-'

'Who's in love with the blonde bartender,' Lillian nodded sagely.

'Well, I never said you would have to marry him. Griffin's a great guy. And Muffy's fun. I think you and she would along well. She's from the city too. And her dad was a bartender like your papa.'

'Hmm...'

Claire's eyes flickered shiftily from the hay to her friend's face. When Lillian caught her looking the young farmer blushed and returned to her work, which was nearly done. 'Since you don't like men who are involved, there's Gustafa, but you don't really strike me as the hippy-tree-hugging-musician type.' There was a small snort as Claire dropped her pitchfork and took out her brush, beginning to work on one of the cows. She rolled her head back again and looked up into the rafters, thinking.

'Carter can be kind of a grouch, and, to be honest, I don't think he would be interested in you. He's too much of a scholar. Flora's really the only one who can crack his shell. And Rock...' She gave Lillian another small side glance. 'Never mind.'

'"Never mind"? Here, I'll brush, you milk the cows.'

'All right,' Claire said as she handed Lillian the brush and went to another cow to milk her. 'Rock is kind of a flake. He's too...' Another short glace. 'Too young for you. He acts like he still in primary.'

For several seconds of silence the two worked; Lillian steadily stroking the dirt clots from the cow's back and Claire milking. 'Then I think you're right,' Lillian said directly, 'but I think I've exhausted your supply of men, eh Claire? Or is there a fine young god living atop the mountain.'

'Well, I don't know about that, though the g... Anyway, there are more men that I know. Cody is really sweet, though he looks like he could pummel a person to death. He's the one who does all of my metal work.'

'Yes, you introduced me; but he reminds me of one of my exes, only a little bit bigger.' She flexed her arm and bounced her hand through the air, indicating the muscles that Cody was covered in. Lillian stopped brushing the cow which gave a small grunt in protest, and leaned against the bovine. 'Have I ever told you about Luca: the Italian who worked at the Japanese bar across the street from my apartment building?'

'I think so,' Claire muttered, tilting her head back in contemplation once more. 'Was he the one who had his friend chop up that live fish and make your dinner right in front of you? When you got fish heart in your lap?'

'Yeah, him. He was really wonderful though; knew how to treat a woman. And the things he could do with his hands...'

Small vomiting noises came from Claire, who was shivering slightly in the afternoon heat.

'Oh, you are such a virgin. Someday, you will want to know what he did to me so that your little Marlin fish can do them to you too. You have no idea what you're missing out on, Claire,' Lillian continued over the cries of protest from the milk maid, 'But I'll tell you when you come to me. Now, who else do you have in your little town?'

'I'm introducing you to Grey,' she huffed, and the two finished out their chores, silently joking with each other. They continued the day quietly, and, since it was Wednesday Claire promised that she would introduce her friend to the blacksmith from the town over the next day. 'He only comes Thursday,' she explained as they headed with mismatched towels down to the spa. 'He's stubborn and fickle, and I thought I was in love with him when I first moved here. He's tall, sort of a redheaded-blond, muscular because of all of the work he does with a hammer, and I think you two would get on well.'

The older girl nodded her head, voicelessly trying to convey her dislike of redheads: they reminded her of her first boyfriend who had ruined the appeal of all red-haired men completely when he had turned out to be an ass and had stolen most of her money; but Claire could not have understood. Lillian decided that she would humor her friend and meet the boy, if for nothing but to make her happy, and after that they would never have to speak to each other again.

Several hours passed as the two of them soaked in the revitalizing hot spring waters, but hunger took the best of them and they sped home through the dark. As they passed the small house where Marlin lived Lillian noticed that her friend was watching the door, as though hoping the black haired man might walk out the door and confess his undying love for her right then. They had just reached the bridge when a shout came from behind them and a panting Marling stormed up the road toward them. Claire insisted that Lillian head on without her, and though Lillian hesitated at first she returned to Claire's farm alone, and got ready for bed. An hour later Claire returned home, looking slightly upset, but when Lillian tried to get anything from her she avoided the questions, repeating, 'It's too late, and I'm tired. I'm going to bed.' She told her guest that there was something left over in the fridge and to held herself, but Lillian found that she was no longer hungry and followed Claire's lead, taking to her makeshift couch-bed. Soon Lillian was asleep, her dreams haunted by boisterous gingers with her wallet and checkbook, running off with tall, leggy blondes that might have been their sisters.

When Lillian awoke the next morning Claire was already out. She had left a note for her friend, wishing her a pleasant morning, saying that she didn't want to wake her, and that she was already out working on the farm; work to do! Lillian had risen quietly after noon and tidied herself up, making sure that she did not look like she was trying to impress anyone. By two o'clock she was out of the house and strolling down the road to Vesta's farm. The walk was quiet and uneventful, just she and the happy songbirds running along the streaks of white in the sky, only disturbed by the thought of meeting Claire's Grey.

Along the way Lillian saw Vesta, Marlin and the little Celia out in the fields, and she called over to the former, asking if she had seen Claire. The hefty shape hollered an affirmative, saying that the girl had stopped by not half an hour ago to deliver Vesta and Celia their daily flowers, and to give Marlin a new bottle of homebrewed wine. She had headed up to the mines and they had not seen her pass by again, so, Vesta reasoned, she must still have been up there. Lillian thanked the messy planter and made her way, making sure to emphasize to Marlin the need for company at Claire's home. 'I'm sure Claire would love to have you over for diner sometime,' the scheming woman called as she walked past.

Within the hour Lillian was standing before a large yellow tent, where she looked half-heartedly for Claire. The roar of the nearby waterfall drowned out her pathetic calls and soon Lillian had settled herself by the shores of the large pond that gathered at the falls' feet. She inspected the water, watching the blurs of fish skitter past her toes, which she had just lowered into the water, feeling the cooling rush as it sped round her immersed pale white feet. She could just make out little flecks of red polish through the ruffling water surface. Lillian hoped that no one would disturb her as she sat on the banks, for, for the first time in she couldn't even imagine how long, Lillian felt at peace with the world. An unusually warm breeze passed through the autumn afternoon, causing Lillian to let out a long, contended sigh.

'Lillian?'

The voice was one that Lillian, unfortunately, could not recognize. Faster than the fish around her, Lillian's feet were back on land, lying lopsided by her muddy shoes. Her sharp eyes were soon looking up the straight beige lines running up a strong body and ending in a bright blue collar that might have been an ascot. Lillian leaned on one palm and kicked her left leg atop its opposite.

'Aren't you a little old to be a boy scout?'

'Lilly!' cried an upset voice from somewhere behind the irked man in his taupe suit. 'Don't be mean! This is the person I wanted you to meet.'

Claire came puffing from around them snarling man, smiling through a reproachful glare. 'This is Grey,' she said, patting his arm as she swung her mallet over her shoulder, 'And he's a good friend of mine, so be nice.'

'Hey,' grunted the tall smith, 'I've heard a lot about you.'

Once she had pulled herself to her feet Lillian began to brush the dirt from her pants, and bent over slowly to put on her shoes. 'Yeah,' she muttered as she pulled on the second, 'And Claire has said all of two words about you.'

'She doesn't mean anything by it, Grey, really.'

As Lillian looked up to tell her friend that she had meant to be rude simply because she hated blind dates she caught the look in his glassy blue eyes; there was a strange, icy mixture of contempt and amusement, and Lillian found herself intoxicated by it.

'She's right,' Lillian said solidly, 'I apologize, I must seem awful. I'm just getting back at Claire. She really wouldn't tell me the first thing about you. And the jumpsuit really does make you look a bit like a boy scout.'

'Lilly!'

'All right.' Lillian held out one slender hand, and smiled softly at the tall, ginger blacksmith. 'My name is Lillian, but you can call me Lilly.'

'Grey,' the man said, taking her hand in a sturdy handshake, 'I don't have the time to buy another outfit. Work too much. And Claire isn't really good and telling people things that are important.'

Lillian smiled at that and let go of his hand. 'I know,' she said quickly. One hand slid to her waist and the other hung diligently at her side. As slyly as she could manage she ran the tips of her fingers in circles over her palm, memorizing the texture of the metalworker's hands. Rough hands had always been a turn on for her; if they were too soft being touched by a man felt like being touched by a woman. That's why she had always enjoyed trips to ranches and courting the cowboys who lived there.

'Well,' huffed the small blonde, 'Since you two seem to be having fun at my expense I think I'll go back home. I need to order some feed.'

'See you tonight, Claire!' Lillian called as the petite girl dashed down the hill toward the swirling white blades that peaked just above the small hill. 'She is so touchy sometimes,' Lillian winked at Grey. The man scratched just above his eyebrow, smiling at her with the corners of his eyes. 'Yeah, she can get pretty worked up when she wants to. But she's normally calm.'

'Yeah… yeah, she is. I've just been giving her a hard time lately.'

'Payback?'

'Of sorts. Well,' Lillian took a step away from her new friend and beamed at him, 'Have you got anything in mind for today?'

Inside of herself she could sense that the man standing before her was a shy and gentile creature, prone to subtly and reserve, and though he retained much of the appearance she also felt behind his demure mien a humorous and fun person. Grey smiled shyly at her as he tucked one hand into his pocket. He muttered something about being rather unprepared, having only been told by Claire this morning that she was bringing the city girl to meet him. Claire had never specifically said the words 'blind date,' but he admitted that he had had the feeling and was too nervous to think clearly. Lillian smiled tenderly at him.

'Don't give it a second thought,' she said. Quite swiftly Lillian turned down river, and suggested a walk down the bank until the trees began to become dense. 'We could walk through the trees along the river if you want, but that sounds like a bit of a hassle.'

After a prolonged second the ginger nodded his head. He leaned his head back to look at the sky, one hand keeping his hat in place. 'Well, in a town this big there isn't much to do. Claire said you're from the city?'

'I am,' she confirmed as they began slowly down the beaten dirt road. 'How about you? Where are you from, Grey?'

He slipped one hand into his pocket and swayed a step away from her, as though he were keeping a distance between them. She wondered vaguely if he thought she was contagious.

'I was born in the city. Lived there for most of my life, until my parents decided it would be best if I lived with my grandpa and learned from him. They said that it would be good for me.' He shook his head slowly. 'They thought that if I lived in a remote part of the world I might be able to live happily.' His eyes shot up as if he had just realized something and he sputtered out, 'Of course, I wanted to do it too.'

'Did you go back to a university to study though?'

'Yeah.' His brow furled. 'How did you kn-'

Before he could finish she had reached up and was tapping his hat. 'UMA. It's a school right? The University of Wherever-You-Felt-Like-Going. Would I know it?'

'I don't think so,' Grey said. He took off his hat and began to fumble around with it, turning it over as though he had missed something. He was blushing, Lillian noticed. 'It's, uh, sort of a remote school. No one ever knows where it is. It's a small place outside of, well, here.' Grey, folded the rim of his hat with one hand and with the other dug into his pocket, pulling out a ratty leather wallet. He plopped the hat back on his head before he opened the wallet and withdrew a beaten piece of folded paper. They had stopped and were now standing on the side of the road, just where the trees met the path. The blacksmith bent his knee up, toward his chest, and flattened the piece of paper against it.

'You have a map of where you went to university?' Lillian said with a slightly mocking tone in her voice. Grey handed her the piece of paper, and smiled casually.

'I never bothered to take it out once I left. And I never really feel like taking it out now.'

'Where is it on here?'

With a light sigh and a smile Grey stretched his arm across to the point on the map where his university was clearly marked, though it was a great deal smaller than most. 'It's right there,' he said as he tapped the spot. 'So, have you heard of it?'

Once he had withdrawn his finger Lillian bowed her head to get a closer look. The school was only a few miles from where she had lived, and though she vaguely recalled the name and was almost certain that one of her neighbors had attended and sported their little UMA license plate, she wasn't entirely sure. 'They have a really good English program there, don't they? And their engineering is top notch.'

'Yeah,' he mumbled. Shock was plastered across his face. 'Yeah, yeah, the English Program is amazing,' he managed. The shock was wearing off and Lillian could see a childish excitement glowing behind his eyes. 'I thought that's what I would major in first year, but I was taking one of the basic engineering classes—just testing the waters, you know? Not to mention I was really good in the science classes I'd had in high school—and in that class I had this professor who was really just incredible and—'

Gray talked incessantly about all of the wonderful experiences he had had at UMA, going into in-depth detail about all of his courses and some of the projects he had worked on with his favorite, and not so favorite, professors. Lillian nodded, slightly dumbfounded at the tremendous enthusiasm her companion had. She wanted to ask him why he became a blacksmith if he had been such an engineering prodigy, but she couldn't get a word in. So she walked alongside him, listening intently to everything he said, and trying not to get lost in all of his mechanical jargon.

By the time that they had reached the bridge that led into the other side of town Lillian was howling with laughter. It was not something that she did very often, if at all, but the ironsmith's college anecdotes were enough to put Marlin in stitches.

'Oh no! And, and what did he, what did he do?'

'He ate them!'

'No!'

'Yes!'

Lillian collapsed against her new friend, her stomach convulsing with laughter. She dug her fingernails into Grey's shoulder but he was too busy holding his stomach to notice. They must have made quite the pair, the boy that everyone knew to be a bit of a recluse and the girl that none of the villagers really knew. Vesta, who could still see them from her field, chuckled quietly to herself and when Marlin walked over to ask if she thought they were alright, she nodded and said their only fault was their youth. Marlin gave her a slightly offended look and said that he was heading into the storage room.

At that very moment Claire was leaving her farmhouse. She had mounted her horse, Liberté, and was riding at a slow canter to Vesta's farm, to deliver the new bottles of wine that she had been brewing. When she rounded the corner she noticed two small figures, sitting on the bridge that gapped the river and could hear their staggered laughter even from that distance. As she rode along she passed Chris, who seemed to be very agitated. When she stopped the woman to ask her why, she tugged at her short blond hair, pulled out her lipstick and snapped 'Those kids!' and before Claire could get in another word the pink housewife was storming down the road, pushing her way past a wobbly Van.

'She's in a mood,' he grumbled to himself, before he waved at Claire and turned toward the Inn. 'She is indeed,' Claire said to herself. She was admittedly quiet curious, and as she grew nearer she realized just who they were.

'And, and then he said, he said "You better watch out, dude. She's a necrophiliac!"'

'I don't know if I wanted to walk in on that.'

Through tears of laughter the sitting couple turned around, gazing up with their squinted eyes at a blurring shape on top of a brown blob. 'Claire?' Lillian managed through the contortions of her stomach, 'Is, is that you?'

Before Claire could respond to her two idiotic friends, they were laughing again. Lillian tipped over, almost falling off the bridge and into the stream below, but Grey caught her and held her against his lap, still laughing. He fell backwards, Lillian sprawled across him. The commotion had made Liberté start, and Claire had to move the horse off the bridge. 'What are you two doing?' she shouted as Liberté whinnied and scrapped her hoof against the dirt. 'You look insane! Grey, I've never seen you—' She stopped to pull on Liberté's mane. 'I've never seen you laugh so much! I didn't even know you could smile!'

The smithy, who was indeed normally quite reserved, rolled onto his spastic stomach, propping himself on his elbows. Lillian pulled her feet from the side of the bridge as he moved and grabbed her stomach as she choked on the air.

'It's, it's just so, just so funny!' he howled, pounding one fist against the wood boards. The little old man who usually stood on the bridge was grumbling himself down the path, casting dirty looks at the pair. Claire caught his looks and began to worry.

'If you two don't stop this you might have to move! Lilly, I'll send you off to live with Luca the Italian. And Grey, if you scare off all your customers and your grandpa hears about this I don't even want to think of what would happen.'

The raucous laughter died down to Lillian's stifled giggling. Grey who had rolled onto his back, was now sitting straight up, legs crossed, while Lillian rested her head in his lap, twitching slightly at the thought of having to deal with her ex-boyfriend again.

'You don't have that kind of power,' the lame girl muttered, as she realized that Claire was talking about kicking her off of the farm. 'I'm not going back.'

'I'm not saying you would have to, but you two are going to riot the townsfolk.' Claire sighed and took her forehead in her hand. 'I'm just saying keep it down. You're out in public; there's no reason to be so loud.'

Lillian wanted to say something about how funny the blacksmith was, but she held her tongue when she saw Grey nodding his head. Without saying a word Grey picked up Lillian's head, slipping his hands under her neck and back, and pushed her up until she was sitting. He stood up and walked soberly over to Claire, muttering something as he patted her leg.

'Alright,' she sighed, turning Liberté around and starting off toward Vesta's farm, 'But don't do anything dumb!'

From the ground Lillian could see Grey nodding his head once more and waving slowly at the receding farmer. He turned around and picked up his hat which, in all the ruckus, had fallen to the ground. 'Lucky it didn't go off the bridge, huh?' he said with a weak smile.

'Yeah,' Lillian grunted as she stood up. 'Think of all the memories that would have washed away with it. I would hate for you to lose that.'

Grey fiddle with his hat, bending the rim and turning it in his hand. He was guilty, she realized, though she couldn't begin to understand it. Lillian put a hand on his forearm, noticing for the first time how muscular he was underneath his beige jumpsuit. 'You alright, Grey?'

With a small grunt, Grey shoved his hands into his pockets. 'Yeah, I'm fine. It's just that Grandpa…' He looked at her cautiously, not sure that a girl he had just met was trustworthy. But, when she smiled at him, he let his coldness melt. His elbows unbuckled and hung at limp angles at his sides. 'My grandpa is a hard guy to put up with. Sometimes all I wanna do is get away from him, tell him off, and just never forge another anything again.'

As he sighed, the same tricky autumn wind wound around the valley, pressing comfort upon its inhabitants and playing games with their minds. Grey stretched through the breeze, his sleeves rustling like dying leaves. Lillian watched the way his face moved, the way his eyes scrunched closed, the way his hat squeezed between his arms, threatening to fall off. Country boys seemed so much simpler.

'I'd planned on going down to the bar and buying you a drink,' Grey yawned, 'but it wouldn't look too good now. I asked Claire if it would be alright if we just headed up and hung out at the barn. But you probably do a lot of that, huh?'

His eyes were bashful and sorry, and Lillian saw his heart beating sadly behind them. She tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace. 'The farm would be nice.' There was an inky melancholy on his face, so she took his hand in both of hers, patting them.

'I'm not normally this touchy,' she tried to explain, 'but I feel like it's okay with you. Do you mind?'

'No,' Grey said, blushing lightly. 'I kind of feel like I've known you long enough that it wouldn't matter.' There was a drawn out pause between them, only broken by the disgruntled grumbling of the man who they had warded off earlier. He looked friendlier now, for he saw the pair as a love-struck couple than a pair of miscreants, but he still wanted them off his bridge and out of his way.

With the sultry smile that Lillian had played against many of her exes, Lillian let go of his hand and walked away. It was for the best. 'I'll be back in ten minutes with a bottle of Claire's wine and a bread basket. We can have lunch on that patch of grass overlooking what's-his-face's tent. By the river. Are you hungry?' Lillian stopped, looking back at the metalworker. 'A little bit,' he admitted before he went left down the little decline to the spot she had indicated. Thirteen minutes later Lillian was sitting beside him, a small blanket laid out and a modest lunch set carefully in front of them.

'Does it look alright? Claire doesn't have a whole lot of food for a farmer.'

'It's fine,' Grey said, smiling honestly. 'I'm just glad we have something to do.'

They passed the rest of the day together, talking quietly about whatever came to mind: Grey's work, Lillian's life in the city, the farm, the country, the river. Eventually they packed up their picnic and made their way back to the mines where Lillian watched and helped Grey find ores. The day that had started out so jovial had simmered down into a lulling calm, though Lillian could find no fault with it. When they at last left the mines it was dark outside.

'I should be getting back home,' Grey whispered, slightly stunned by the sudden revival of time. He looked across his shoulder at the elegant brunet standing beside him. He elbowed her playfully before saying, 'I had a great time today.'

'I did too,' Lillian smiled, nudging him back. 'I think it's the most fun I've had with a man since I broke up with Julian.'

'You're tall for a woman.'

'My mother was tall. It runs in the family.'

'You're Polish, right?'

'Yes. Why do ask?'

'Oh, I dunno. Just something about you I guess.'

'Hmm…' Lillian tucked her hands into her back pockets, staring off down the hill. She could just make out two little figure dashing around the windmills. She hoped that it was Claire and Marlin, playing some cute little game. 'Are you going to the Inn, or just straight home?'

'Home, I think. Walking over the pass at night is liberating. There's nothing between you and the sky… That sounds silly, doesn't it?'

'Maybe a little bit, but I'm not exactly "one with nature" yet. I figure I'll give it some time before I get there. A few more months.'

'Hmm… well,' Grey took a step forward, and then turned his head to see if Lillian would follow him. With a small smile she did, and they took off down the hill. 'Do you speak any Polish, Lillian?' he inquired, rubbing his thumb join against his knee, ''Cause you don't have an accent.'

'Tak, mówię język polski. Ale wy pytacie nieparzyste pytania głupi chłopiec. Why do you ask? Again.'

Slightly flabbergasted, Grey stopped once more and mumbled something about Polish and the size of Lillian's waist, but she paid him no heed and continued on. 'It's getting quite dark, Grey. You need to get home.'

The lovely young girl rubbed her palm against her jeans as Grey caught up to her. He was smiling like a school boy who had just been kissed and he asked her where she had learned it, and why she didn't have an accent. 'I'm third generation Polish,' Lillian responded, somewhat estranged from the question. She had heard it so many times. 'My mother spoke Polish, and both my grandmother and grandfather were fully Polish, so I had to learn. Ma ma, taught me and we spoke it every day in my home.

'I have no accent because I was not surrounded by the language. All around me people spoke as you and I do, so I adapted and picked up the accent to stay apart of the culture.' Lillian nodded her head confidently. 'Do you speak anything Else, Grey?'

'No… no, I—so you're fluent? Man, I wish I could speak anything else. I mean, I dabble in Russian and then Vietnamese for a while, and there was this beautiful French girl who I dated, she went to that big arts school in the city, so I picked up a word or two from her, but… I'm sorry,' He interrupted him, noticing the sheer lack of interest on Lillian's face. 'You probably get this all the time.'

'When people ask. And whenever anyone saw my mother they asked. She only spoke to me in Polish. It gets you out of a lot of messes though.'

'Yeah, I can see how it might.'

The short walk from the mines to head of the mountain pass was almost over. Grey had stopped following the dirt road and strayed to one of the windmills that generated the town's power. He leaned against it, pulling his hat down as he thought, but only for a moment. When he raised his head once more, he was smiling at her. Lillian saw no choice but to stop and wander over to him. Only a meter away, he raised his hand, and she took it lightly.

'Polish.'

A light laugh carried away on the cooling autumn breeze. 'Tak. Polski. Why do you find it so interesting?'

'I have no idea. I've never met a Pole before. Maybe that's it.'

'Met or gone on a date with?'

Burning in his face was a touch of embarrassment. 'Is that what this was?'

'You're so cute, kochanie. What if I was your girlfriend, mały chłopiec? Would you brag to all of your przyjaciele, that I was your koleżanka?' Somewhere deep inside of her Lillian could feel her rational self, the self that had planted herself strictly in the plowed fields of Claire's farm, crying out at the injustice that Lillian was doing the poor blacksmith, but a week and a half of neglect had caused her city slicking flirt to go mad. Lillian slithered up to the blacksmith, running her hand along his chest. When she reached his kerchief she tangled it around her finger, watching with sick amusement his eyes growing and his face fanning into one solid red flame. 'You really are a sweet kid.' Lillian muttered. She stole his hat and placed one tender kiss on his forehead, before tossing the thing back at him and turning to walk away. 'Now go home, and stop delaying. I'll see you next week!'

Whatever it was that truly inspired her sudden change of character, she could not honestly say, though if asked she would have claimed it to be a part of her nature. Lillian was a wild and fiery girl with an education that had instilled in her a respect for good manner, so the contrast in her behaviors was one that swelled beneath her lungs and tossed about like a small fish in acid. But she accustomed herself to the feeling, and it was now muted.


	3. Chapter III

Within the hour Lillian was standing in the doorway of a black and friendless house. Her hand beat around the door, looking for a light switch, until finally there was light. The first thing she did was take off her raggedy All-Stars and slip out of her jeans. If there was one thing that Lillian had developed over the years of living in the city, it was an intense dislike of regular jeans: they spanned too many classes and social levels for her to be comfortable in them for too long. To the left of her bed/couch Lillian had set up a portable wardrobe, where she currently most of her clothes. There had been too many for her to take them all, but she had made due. Lillian slid into a pair of sweats, and, after pulling off her shirt and bra, donned a black sports bra. After she was dressed she acknowledged the slip of paper that was fold haphazardly on the counter: Claire and Flora were down at the bar. She flipped the note over and scribbled something of her own before pulling her hair into a ponytail heading out the door with a light jacket.

Lillian started her run through the Valley with a light, carefree jog, not much to press herself. This is the way she always began her evenings. When Claire was asleep, or on rare occasion, out, Lillian set out into the Valley, running until everything became one blur and she could no longer move.

Normally she would have headed up to the mines and then back down, but she felt as though she had seen enough of them that day and head up toward the mansion on the hill. When she reached the peak she rounded the fountain and began down the hill at as slowly as she could, afraid of gravity. When she reached the bottom, she set off at a full sprint.

Although she passed the bar twice she did not see Claire, though she couldn't say that she was upset by it. Lillian enjoyed the solitary nature of her late night runs. There was no interruption: no birds, no children, no street cars, no people; just the sound of her feet hitting the hard ground and her breath dredged out of her lungs.

Once she had reached the path that lead up to Claire's house she stopped, breathing heavily. There were several choices that she would acknowledge: head down to the beach, go up to the pond, cross the bridge, or go back home. The latter was out, as she was still awake. Lillian did not like to run on the beach, for her shoes always sunk into the sand and it was too hard to run. Before she could finish, she saw the elegant silhouette hobbling down the mountain. 'That late already,' she huffed. Lillian leaned back to straighten out her shoe and continued down the road, toward the mountain at a light jog.

Because this was a nightly ritual Lillian had become accustomed to the faces of several townsfolk: Flora and the old man who always paused on the bridge, Carter from the excavation site, Grant the man who worked in an office in town, and one other. Every night since she had first come to the town, Lillian had passed a tall man, with long white hair pulled up above his head, and a scraggly walking cane to ease his pace. He was quite quick, this old man, but he had a limp to every other step. At first the wizened old man had confused Lillian, for she never saw him in town, and Claire said that she could not recognize his description, but as time passed she had stopped caring. Once or twice Lillian had stopped to chat with the majestic gentleman, and, although his mind did appear to be somewhat nebulous, he always talked quite fondly with her, before heading up the road to the Goddess' pond.

For whatever reason, when she saw the stringy shadow of the man that night, Lillian felt her heart lift, and, possessed, she enthusiastically went to meet him. He was a little off today, she noted when she caught a glimpse of her watch, but a small part of her was rather happy that he was. Within twenty minutes she was standing in front of him, smiling charmingly up at him. This too struck her as strange: that he, an obviously ancient man, should be taller than her, but she had grown accustomed to it.

'It's a lovely evening tonight, isn't it sir?'

Staring off around her shoulder, the old man nodded. His hands were twitching at his side.

'How are you this evening?' she inquired, trying to catch his eye. The man, she had noticed, was always trying to look away from her, to keep his eyes from her, and it only made her want to look at him more.

'Quite well,' he muttered, his voice echoing like an old magistrate: powerful, but distant. Sometimes Lillian had wondered what he had done in his lifetime, wondered if he had been a successful and wealthy man who had retired comfortably in the country. He certainly had an air of refinement and a noble mien to him. 'And you?' He gave in, finally looking right at her. Lillian was surprised to see that the quiet old man had such dazzling and intelligent eyes; she had never seen them well enough before to notice.

'I… I'm quite well, thank you,' she breathed through her surprise. It faded quickly into a warm smile. 'I was hoping I would see you tonight, sir. You weren't here yesterday.'

'Hmp,' the man snorted softly. 'It was raining.'

'Oh. You don't like the rain then? Hm… I do. See, I used to live in the city, and whenever it rained it would smell like wet pavement.' She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. Unintentionally, her hand came to her heart. 'I always thought that was such a wonderful smell. One of the best. But when I moved out here, I realized that there were so many more things to smell, and so much more pleasant. The first time it rained here, I realized that pavement couldn't compare.'

The scintillating blue eyes of the older man looked at her curiously, and Lillian thought she saw something else, something that shouldn't have been there at all. A little uneasy, Lillian tried to smile again, but she knew that the lips on her face were hardly honest. 'Anyway, I shouldn't be keeping you. And Claire might wonder where I am. So long.'

Waving back at him, Lillian turned around, jogging quickly back to Claire's farm. Those glassy blue eyes… they were magnificent…

When Lillian reached Claire's house again the lights were still off. She could not see Oscar, who had greeted her when she come home earlier, so she assumed Claire was now and had passed out. A glance at her watch said that it was already one o'clock in the morning. He was out much later than normal.

Like the autumn wind Lillian swiftly and noiselessly came into the house, removed her clothes and went to bed. Fatigue took the best part of her with it, but her mind was still ticking relentlessly: the old man's eyes burned through the darkness like the crown jewel on a warrior's blood speckled crown. Slept doused her perceptions quickly, but through her dreams glowed an omniscient azure eye.

All around Lillian came the chirping of obnoxious birds and the droning of anguish. A beaten 'hate' and 'life' drooped over the side of someone else's bed and floundered about Lillian's ears, as she tried to ward of the morning welcome with her hand.

'Can't we just sleep all day?' Lillian garbled through a pillow. A negative response in a similar dialect came from Claire's side of the room. Lillian groaned helplessly before looking over at what used to be her friend. All that seemed to be left of the girl was a frisky jungle of blond hair, a sad and pathetic looking hand, and what Lillian assumed was one of her own borrowed boots jutting out from beneath the bed covers.

'Late night?' Lillian coughed as she pulled on a shirt. A woe begotten moan tumbled through the pillow. Lillian managed a scratchy laugh. 'Me too.'

Lillian, who was in far better shape than her pathetic lump of a friend, fell into a pair of her favorite sweatpants and her slippers and shuffled into Claire's kitchen to make them something that might pass as breakfast. The first thing open was the fridge. Lillian dropped her head to her waist and bent it back until she could see every inch of glistening white plastic.

'There are no eggs,' she muttered upon discovery, and then she slumped out into the chicken coop to gather that morning's eggs and feed the chickens. 'Twenty fucking eggs, twenty fucking chickens.' She didn't even want to think of the cattle.

'I'm not much of a lady, Clarie-bear,' Lillian coughed when she returned to the kitchen. Another groan: maybe what was puddle beneath the blankets was a tiny troll. Next were omelets. 'I hit all over your friend yesterday,' crack, 'and made him blush,' crack, 'and then I looked into an old guy's eyes. You country bumpkins suck.' Crack. Lillian wobbled over to the fridge once more and gazed lifelessly in. 'Milk, milk, milk… Jesus Christ… I hate you.' She pulled herself out of the vortex and stumbled off to feed and milk all the cows. An hour later she hit the maker shed and grabbed some of Claire's homemade cheese.

'I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate I hate you I, not you,' she kicked the cat who squealed and left onto Claire who moaned loudly and tried to suffocate herself with pillow. In the corner, Oscar the dog snickered and then slipped into the kitchen and some of the grated cheese that Lillian had let lip onto the floor.

'It's almost noon, you hung-over hick. Get your lazy ass out of bed.' Half the pail a pail of milk had been poured, some into her omelet bowl, some into glasses, and some, to Oscar's content, to the floor. Lillian cursed when she slipped, but was soon standing over the frying pan. 'Too bad you're not allergic to cheese, otherwise I could kill you today.' This time a dilapidated sentence wiggled through Claire's pillow, but the sentence had nothing nice to say. Lillian smiled to herself, almost awake. The morning was not quite like yesterday, and a sudden autumn chill had set upon the valley, making it almost breathtaking to walk out amongst the crackling leaves. 'I talked to Marlin last night,' Lillian began lied, 'Said you and I had shacked up and were always going at it, and that he should come and join us sometime. The old fart too. We could have a grand ole' time.'

A strangled scream came through the thumping of angst ridden feat and Yori shot off the bed like a frightened chipmunk, only to be chased by a happy Oscar: his morning was officially made.

'I'm just teasing you, you silly drunk,' Lillian said through a sleepy laugh, 'but you really should get up. I've fed the cows, the sheep, the chickens, milked and gathered eggs. The poor sheep look freezing, you're omelet's ready, and I didn't brush any of them. Liberté must be pissed off right now, unfed since yesterday; at least, that's my assumption. And your crops look parched. Ouch! Burnt my thumb. Hey, sleeping beauty! I know a dog who would love to eat that omelet unless you want it.'

Something heavy fell from the bed and scrunched pathetically across the floor like a caterpillar. Yori, who by then had forgotten the dog, chased a stray thread before jumping on and slowing the whole operation down. Oscar just panted happily as he watched, waiting for his next opportunity to beg for food.

Rubbing the last of her sleep from her eyes, Lillian yawned, 'How much did you drink last night, Claire?' The farmer muttered something sadly when she hit the table and made small noises, as though she were an animal being tortured, until Lillian came over and lifted her into the table seat. The hung over blond mess smelled strongly of beer and various heavy alcohols, with just a hint of vomit. 'That much,' the taller girl grunted, 'huh? God. I feel like I just lifted a hippo.' Pressing her fists into her base of her back, Lillian walked back to the kitchen counter and swept up the two omelets. 'You get no cure,' Lillian said when she set the food before her friend.

'I don't like you,' whimpered the tangle of bed sheets, but it picked up a fork and set about eating the omelet. 'Water?'

'What's the magic word?' Lillian mocked.

'Please?' The voice was miserable and childlike, and Lillian saw no need to press for cherries on top. Instead she stood up and walked back into the kitchen to fill her friend a glass of water. Before she could turn back with the water, the blond made an attempt at conversation. 'How was Grey?' she whispered, though her voice cracked and rose several octaves higher than it ought to. She cleared her throat and asked the question again, though Lillian had heard her quite clearly the first time.

'It was quite nice,' Lillian said honestly. 'I didn't think I would have any fun, but your smithy is quite charming.'

'Charming? He hardly even speaks to me, and we're good friends.' Several coughs ensued the long and intricate sentence, penetrated meekly by curses. 'Don't you know,' cough, 'any way to hel' cough, 'help me?'

'Oh, I do, Claire. I do. But I think this is a lesson to you. Or' she pondered quite a bit louder than was necessary, 'maybe I'm still getting back at you for setting me up in the first place. I was only joking when I said that you should give me a man. I do like Grey though. He reminds me of my apartment. He promised he would make me something someday, when he had the time.'

'He always has time. He's a slacker.' Lillian stepped lightly on what she thought was her friend's foot, but Yori leapt from under the table and was once more chased by Oscar. Claire yelped when the noise began, covered her ears (though it was hard to tell amidst the blankets and tousle of hair) and began to whine in high pitched tones that couldn't have helped her condition. Lillian stood up calmly and walked over to the door, placing her hand on the knob until Oscar noticed. Immediately he stopped chasing the cat and made a dash for the door, watching patiently with his large eyes and wagging his tail. 'Get you, you silly dog,' Lillian said as she opened the door. And then he was off and running about the farm. Yori mewed in appreciation and pattered delicately into the kitchen to drink what was left of the milk on the floor.

'I was joking,' Claire moaned. 'You didn't have to do that.'

'I didn't think I had.'

They finished breakfast in relative silence, though Lillian did try to mention how she and Grey had parted, but Claire was not sober enough to handle anything. In truth, all Lillian wanted to do was get it off her chest. Now that a day had passed, she found that she felt a little bit dirty for having flirted so provocatively with Grey. She hadn't really meant to: it was just a part of her nature.

Since Lillian could not detail Claire on the happenings of the previous day, Lillian made due with trying to solve the mystery of the apocalyptic hangover. At first Claire didn't want to say anything; all she wanted was to eat and drink her water (she was feeling a little dehydrated). But further coercion lead to detail: Thursday night Flora and Claire had gone down to the bar, but Lillian had learned that from the note. Once they had gotten there they had met with Marlin, Carter, and the twins, who were already rather jovial. The small party had begun their exploits simply laughing and joking quietly, but soon Patrick announced that it was their annual drinking competition, and that the younger crowd should join in. At first Carter had retained a reluctance, but a drink or two later, he was convinced to join. Griffin and Muffy had apparently thought the idea funny, or maybe good for business, for Claire said nothing about them.

'The next thing I knew,' Claire's broken voice whispered, 'Flora and Carter were cuddling in the corner and Marlin was asking me to marry him…' She coughed, though Lillian thought she was really just bluffing, and then continued with a meek, "I think".

'It's hard to remember, though,' she added just quickly enough to stop Lillian from saying a word. 'I think there might have been onii there too, and that make about as much,' cough, 'sense as Mukumuku. Except, you know.' Cough. 'No,' cough, 'you wouldn't. I'm sleepy, Lilly.'

Lillian did not care about Claire's excuses. 'No sleep, Claire-bear,' she said as she nudged her friend who was drifting off to sleep in her chair. 'You need a bath.'

Squirming in protest, Claire tried to fend off the motherly hands of her roommate, but it was no use. The taller girl was much stronger than her exhausted friend, and soon they were in the bathroom.

Before plopping her friend into a tub of warm water, she combed out her tangled hair, afraid that if it stayed that way for too long she would forever stay trapped inside the nest. As she untangled the mess, she noticed several blushing dots that were scattered around Claire's neckline and across her throat. 'You were busy,' she cooed coyly, before she continued through Claire's confusion.

Well into the afternoon Lillian gave up on trying to avoid the rest of the farm chores, deciding that after she had bathed her patient she would finish what she had started that morning. Claire was somewhat more sensible at that point, and every time that Lillian mentioned Marlin a solid scarlet line appeared across her face. She remembered quite a bit for a girl who had obviously been so intoxicated. Lillian also began telling Claire what she had done to Grey, feeling that someone who had been proposed to last night had little reason to judge her; Claire did not share the sentiment.

'You did what!' she cried, shooting out of the bathwater.

Lillian looked away from her friend's exposed body. 'Please sit down Claire.' She reeled her head back around, somewhat flustered and added, 'You shouldn't be judging me. You're covered in hickeys. Now lean forward. I think there's mud on your neck.'

Once Claire was washed and sober enough to wash the rest of herself Lillian slipped out of the bathroom and stepped over to her make-shift closet. Inside her head she was reprimanding herself for what she had done to Grey before and wondering what he thought of her now. It was probably along the lines of what her past three ex-boyfriends did. Lillian noticed a pair of forlorn boots staring up at her from the bottom of her closet and decided that if they didn't say anything about how lonely they were right then she would put them on. Thirty seconds later she was out the door, lonely boots covering her feet.

She finished the chores casually and unwillingly, though Claire did join in to wash the animals and collect some of her ducks eggs. 'It's so bright outside today,' she mentioned when she looked up into the cloudy sky; Lillian didn't respond. Instead she dragged the back of a gloved hand across her forehead and sighed. 'There's one other thing I want to tell you, Claire.'

Although she was trying to look nonchalant, Lillian could see a streak of concern running over her friend's face. 'Oh?' she managed (her voice was quite tired after all of the yelling she had done the night before during the contest), 'And what was that?'

'That old man I asked you about, the one who looks like a medieval lord? I saw him when I was running last night.'

Relief fell into her friend's features. 'Oh him. So?' Her reply sounded terribly cheery. Lillian could feel a small bolt zinging through the tissue that made up her innards.

'Oh… I got him to talk last night. He sounds like a magistrate. Just like I thought. He was a little odd though. Like he wanted to get away from me.'

Claire attempted to laugh, but ended up crouched in a patch of carrots, the heads tickling her stomach through her overalls. 'Well,' she finally coughed out, 'I've seen you when you run too. All huffing and puffing. You would scare me in the middle of the night.'

'Oh hush. I'm serious.' But by then she was smiling, and was having trouble not laughing herself. Maybe she was making a mountain of an anthill. 'I saw his eyes too. Very regal, icy even. Like this.' She stood erect with arms folded low across her chest, and peered down her nose. She tried to do an imitation of him, but ended up sounding like an old television drama. They laughed together for a while before Claire decided it was about time she headed out in to the Valley. 'If I go any later,' she rationalized 'I'll be coming back tomorrow.' They said goodbye before Lillian returned to the empty house.

Walking into the house Lillian realized that it was the last place she wanted to be, but there was something she knew she had to do. Her took off her boots and placed them by the door, where they stared at her sulkily as she picked up the phone. As Lillian began to dial she realized that she didn't actually know Grey's number. She opened the draw on the stand where the cradle sat and shuffled through it. Reliable Claire had to keep a list of phone numbers when she had first moved in. It wasn't long before Lillian discovered just such a list, but, after looking over it, she realized that it wasn't Grey's smithy.

'Saibara…'

Thinking that the name must have been his grandfather's Lillian began dialing. After two quick rings she could hear a gruff voice yelling and then a man shouted, 'We're closed!'

'Oh, yes, well I'm sorry,' Lillian stumbled, surprised by his rudeness. 'I need to talk to Grey. He lent me something yesterday and I never gave it back. I was hoping I could explain.' The lie spilled out of her quickly, just a habit she had picked up in the city. When someone wasn't willing to listen, you had to get their attention somehow.

On the other end of the line the man grumped about something or other, shouted once more, and soon there was a shuffling sound that scratched through the phone. 'Hello?' began a standoffish voice that Lillian recognized as Grey. He sounded so different over the phone; much colder…

'Grey?'

'Oh. Lillian.'

The use of her full name surprised her, but the tone in his voice was worse. She hoped it was because of his grandfather's presence and not because of her.

'Look, I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I mean, I had a lot of fun, but,' She pulled her hand down her face, 'But I was out of line sending you off like that. I hadn't meant to-'

'What grandpa? No, eat without me. I have to see Mary tonight. Yes, grandpa! I know! I'll finish it as soon as I'm off the phone! I'm sorry, Lilly,' came the softer and sweeter voice of the man she had known the day before, 'I can't do anything with him around.' He tried to laugh but there was more shouting and he ended up clearing his throat. 'See?'

'Yes. I do. But I meant what I said. I should never have done that.'

Swooshing sounds crackled through the receiver. Lillian guessed that he was moving, trying to get a little bit further away from his grandfather so he could talk more freely. 'Lilly,' he sighed, 'I… I didn't really mind. I mean, I was surprised, but, well, honestly, it was kinda nice. I don't think I've had a girl acting so forward since I graduated.'

'Oh?' she laughed coyly, 'Well don't get your hopes up. So, you're going out with another girl tonight, huh? Miss Mary? Or is she an old biddy who you do errands for.'

Even through the phone she could feel Grey blushing. 'Well, I, um… no, she's not a… you're terrible. I feel sorry for Claire now.'

Lillian chuckled slyly and started to run her hand up and down the phone. 'You're funny Grey, really you are. Well, I hope that Miss Mary doesn't snatch you up too quickly, you scoundrel you. Then I wouldn't get a fair chance at you.'

There she went, overextending her limits again. But it was natural, she couldn't help it. Grey never responded to her, though she sensed him melting and could hear his brain ticking. Maybe he wouldn't meet Miss Mary after all. Maybe he would run through the mountains against his grandfather's wishes just to see her. She tried not to laugh at the bullshit her head was spinning out. Romance: who needed it.

'I… I h-have to go, Lilly. Talk to you s-soon?'

It was worse than she thought. 'Sure, Grey. Talk to you soon.' She thought about telling him that she was just joking, but she wasn't entirely sure she was. When she had lived in the city, most guys had just slid with the kisses, taken them on first and maybe they would think about it later. But Grey, so sweet and naïve, even though he'd been a city slicker himself, Grey was something fresh for Lillian to sample, and she was willing to use him into oblivion.

When she hung up the phone she spoke quietly to herself, mumbling about how 'innocent those country bumpkins' were and wondering what the sexes were doing to each other that they couldn't take a little bit of flirting. Or what they _weren't_ doing to each other. 'It must be something in the water supply,' she joked to Yori, but the cat didn't see the humor in it and curled up to sleep for a few hours longer. Lillian took the hint and decided to leave. There was nothing left for her today anyway.

Tired of wearing the same outfit she wore every day, Lillian stripped until she was wearing nothing but a lacy black bra and a matching thong, and stood for a moment in the darkening house. She hadn't bothered to turn the lights on when she had first come in, and by now there was little light in the room at all, though she could just make out the glimmer of light through a crack in the fridge. She sashayed across the room, remembering what it was like to walk like you owned the room, and carefully closed the door. There was a cool breeze, she noticed, that was slipping through a crack in one of the windows, but she couldn't fix that as easily as the fridge. Instead, she floated over to it, and held her hand against the pane until she shivered. Then she turned around and dressed, getting ready to take a late afternoon walk through the woods.


	4. Chapter IV

**NOTE:** I'm sorry it came out so late today. I kept writing and writing, but nothing felt right until, well, an hour or two ago and then I just kept tapping and typing (and then moving because my butt fell asleep), and here's the result. This is a very long chapter, and Skye isn't in it as much as I would have liked him to be, but this felt the best of all of the ways I wrote him, so here he stands: purple pants and all. And he _is_ in here for the first four-ish pages and then the end. It's all important too, I swear!

Now, forewarning: upcoming chapters will probably be slow coming out, because I decided to start all of this on a weekend. I don't want anyone to get comfortable with my Rapid-Chapter-Updates: it was a once in a new moon happenstance and it is (sadly) over. Now I'll be updating probably bi-weekly. But stay with me! I have so much I want to do with these two. Four. I'm counting Claire and Marlin. Anyway, this is the set up of a wonderful time, so kick up those tired souls and read-lax (oh! sweet puns).

And one tiny more thing: she has always been a fashionista. This beginning is one of the first things I wrote for this story. I just brought attention to it now.

* * *

There was a lovely autumn breeze rushing off of the mountains and into the valley that night. Lillian could feel it spinning her hair with a light hand, whisking it around in the night like a lover. She shivered. She had only been in the small town for two weeks and already she missed the rushing flow of the city: the neon, the people, the buildings, even the smell of gasoline and the honking of cars during rush hour… she was freezing outside, but all there was for warmth was a private residence or was too far away for her to get there within a reasonable amount of time. Lillian slipped her hands deep into the pockets of her Burberry toggle wool coat, trying to retain the little warmth left in her. She would have to get new clothes to wear, because her London skinny stretch jeans would not remain white and pure forever and she was tiring of the denim that had plagued her as she worked. What was she thinking when she had brought designer into the middle of—

"Shit."

Her Tory Burch wedges were now speckled in little bits of mud and who knew what else. She loved Claire, she did, but what the fuck was she thinking, living outside of the city? She kept on telling herself she needed to get away from all of the idiots in town and here she was, missing them more than she was sure any of them missed her.

Lillian looked around her. She must have turned left from the farm, toward the spring and the giant tree, because it was so dark where she shivered that she could hardly see. There hadn't been a cloud in the sky when she had left but the moon was just beginning to wax and there was hardly a light to illuminate the landscape. Lillian's wedge slipped out of the mud and she tumbled lightly against what had not too long ago been a lingering summer breeze. She wanted to be back in the warmth of Claire's house, but she kept on moving forward—tally ho! It was silly to keep onward, she knew that, but something pulled her onward into the subtle moonlight.

Half an hour passed before Lillian reached the Goddess' Pond. She had been there on more than one occasion. In fact, the pond was one of the first places that Claire had taken her. It had been much quicker riding Liberté, but Lillian found it hard to complain, though it might have been because the cold had drained out so much energy that she couldn't muster the energy.

Maybe it was her fate to die in the miserable evening chill, she thought to herself, maybe this was what happened to those who left their homes. Lillian bent over and picked up a small stone, casting it into the glowing waters of the Pond. When she had first seen the Pond, Lillian had thought that the luminescence was a byproduct of hazardous waste from a mining project gone terribly awry, or some other human fault, but Claire had jumped in the water and swam to the bottom. When she had come back up Lillian was debating yelling, but Claire presented a handful of glowing, neon green algae. 'This is what makes the water glow,' she had explained, though she couldn't give Lillian a scientific reason.

The wind carried the strong scent of grapes and autumn leaves through the forest, taking Claire from her thoughts. There were shadowy creatures roaming the woods that night, caught only by the radiance of the pond before they faded once more into the wilderness. Smelling the grapes, Lillian turned her back on the pond and the creatures that it exposed, making her way leisurely toward the vineyard. Beneath the nearest tree Lillian reached up a hand until she found a bunch of perfectly rounded orbs. She closed her eyes a moment and felt the skins: they were cold, kissed by the autumn winds, and slightly moist. Keeping her eyes closed she plucked a single grape and held it against her partially open lips,, then, with one finger, she popped it in. They were fabulous grapes, Lillian thought, but the ones that Lillian brought home from her special land were even better.

As she swollowed the grape Lillian remembered time and the fact that she was standing in her Tory Burch wedges in the middle of a grassy field by a pond. Before she looked at her watch (which read 12:17) she took a quick, one eyed peek at her shoes, but the darkness made it impossible to tell their condition. Just as she turned to the pond to get a better look at her shoes, Lillian heard humming.

Lillian's first reaction was to halt for fear: it was the middle of the night and she was alone in the forest; in the city a girl walking alone through a deserted part of town would probably be raped and maybe murdered. But she came to her senses, knowing that this was where the old man headed every night on his evening strolls. Lillian only waited a short time, watching through the grape trees to see if it was indeed the old man walking through the woods.

With buzzing, dilated eyes glimmering through the night one might have mistaken her for a wildcat, waiting on its prey. The slivered moon allowed her what she needed, for a silver head crowned through the leaves and branches, sending Lillian noiselessly to the pond, with all the speed of a predator. Catching the old man off guard sounded like Lillian's sick sort of fun. When she was in place she slipped her hands into her pocket, and waited for the old man to say something to her, for she was, at this point, impossible to ignore.

Soon there came a small gasp, though it was more of a breath than a gasp, and Lillian found her lips twitching up into an egotistical smile. She wanted to turn around and see the old man's face, his frantic sapphire eyes reflecting her silhouette against the ponds luminescence. But the voice that followed was not that of the old man.

'Pardon my intrusion,' came a light and flowing voice that carried perfectly along the wind. 'I didn't think anyone else was out this time of night.'

What Lillian wanted to do was spin around and make a mad dash for the head of the road and then Claire's house, but she knew better than that. Lillian slowly turned, her hair catching in her eyes a moment, obstructing her view of the stranger.

And then there he was. A tall, slim man, with hair the same color as the moon's shadowed smile, and there, in his Mediterranean Sea eyes, was her silhouette glowing in front of the supernatural pond. They were the right eyes in the wrong face, but...

'I must admit, you are a beautiful maiden. I'm honored to have met you,' he said, with flourishing wave of the hand and a bow. 'My name is Skye.' He straightened up, and, with his inquisitive eyes, asked her, 'And what might be yours?'

Never in her life had Lillian been at a loss for words. She wanted to tell him that her name was none of his business, but to see the eyes of the old man in such a young and handsome face... she wasn't quite sure what to do with herself. She watched him smile foolishly through the paranormal night lights. Soon he was walking towards her, but she didn't move: she just stood before him, her lips pursed like a haughty young queen and shoulder pulled up to her high, regal head. The man walked up to the posing statue, and reached for a lock of her hair, saying quietly, 'Well, what's in a name?'

'Don't touch me.'

Shock painted his face and Lillian found that she had been just as startled by her voice. She had not moved: her hands were still tucked warmly into navy her pockets. But the voice was clearly hers and she could feel her eyebrows pulled down and the frown on her pouted lips. The man laughed; quietly, of course, but he laughed none the less. She didn't find anything about it amusing: he was the one who wasn't supposed to be there. As his hand went to his forehead hers went to her hip, giving her a more imposing stance. She gave him a serious look but he still chuckled quietly to himself, his hand just resting upon his brow.

After several minutes the lanky man dropped his hand and opened his sparkling eyes. 'I didn't mean to offend you,' he said with one small and very final laugh, though his smile remained to taunt her passively. 'I won't lay a hand on you. But,' his eyes flickered flirtatiously, 'I would love to know your name.'

With flickering eyes she watched his thumb slip into his pocket. Purple: purple pants. Really?

Lillian's brow was still creased, and an ungodly blush was kissing her cheeks lightly, though he couldn't have seen too well in the light. She hadn't blushed since she was a school girl... or maybe when she had first met Luca, but he was such a forward young Italian.

'Why should I give you my name?' she inquired, tilting her chin up and looking at him across her nose. The man smiled in response before taking a step back.

'You have no reason to give me your name,' he admitted, closing his eyes with sincere contemplation, but they quickly sprang back open, smiling at her like mischievous children. 'No reason at all.

'I've never seen you in the valley before,' he grinned, opening his hand out to the air. They crossed safely across his chest and he closed his eyes once more, lowering his head as he spoke. 'It's funny, actually. I'm here quite often.' The smile never left his lips.

'Well, I've never seen you either,' she said sternly, though she felt as though she were lying to him. It must have been the eyes, she decided. 'And why haven't I seen you, Mr. Skye? I thought I knew everyone living in the Valley?' The adolescent coquette tossed her head back, stopping her hair from impeding her vision.

'I don't live here, sweet maiden,' Skye purred, leaning in to her with a jovial smirk, his hands on hips and legs apart. It was only a temporary pose, for her then straightened back out, arms across his chest and one hand on his chin. He had a nice profile, she noticed, but the thought was pushed away by another curios smile and his turning head. 'You don't come here often... so then, why are you here now?'

'Change of pace,' Lillian replied automatically. 'Normally I jog… I shouldn't be talking to you,' she scowled, shaking her head slowly.

'Why not?'

'I don't know you.'

'A little old to be listening to mommy, aren't you?'

'My mother died during labor.'

'You're lying.'

'Yes I am. She left me and my dad with our bar when I was fourteen.'

The wince was noticeable. Lillian felt herself liking the strange man more and more, liking him enough to tell him about her mother. Not that she really cared about that anymore. Lillian gave the stranger a demure smile. 'I like you, Mr. Skye. My name is Lillian.'

This time his surprise was only fleeting, before it dissolved into a misty smile. 'It's a pleasure,' he said, taking her hand and kissing it. She wasn't quite sure how she felt about that. When he stood back up Lillian noticed the glimmer in his eyes, and, stepping aside quickly, managed to see his face more clearly.

'You have beautiful skin. But you're so fair...' Lillian leaned forward so that she could touch his face with her fingertips: it was soft and perfectly smooth, without a single blemish to be seen. When she withdrew she placed her finger on her chin. 'You could almost be a woman with that hair of yours though. A very lean woman...'

Skye smiled at her inquisitively, cocking his head to one side and raising one eyebrow. 'I don't think anyone's said that to me before.' His lips parted slowly, spreading his beautiful smile and evolving slowly into a low chortle. He brought his hand to his head once more, and this time, Lillian just smiled back at him. If this man counted, she now had three friends.

'So, Mr. Skye, do you have a last name?'

'No,' his voice trickled out of him, still half amused, 'not really. Just call me Skye.'

'Hm... and where do you live, Skye? I mean, if you're not living in the Valley?'

'Ah! and if I told you what would happen to the mystery?' Throwing his hands out to the cloudy foliage that rustled in the evening breeze, Skye laughed, a wild and marvelous laugh that filled the space beneath the trees and echoed across the water, only to return a separate begin to laugh along with him. 'Mystery is so beautiful and wondrous! I wouldn't want to deprive you of that. A beautiful young girl like you…'

'Just because I said that I like you doesn't mean you can flatter me. Anyway,' she took another quick glance at her watch, 'It's late. I hate to leave you all alone, _Mr_. Skye, but I'm afraid I have to wake up early tomorrow, and I could use the sleep.' Her hand lifted up into the air and hovered in front of her waist. 'It was a pleasure meeting you.'

Skye took a moment to stare at her outstretched hand, a puzzled expression on his face. When at last he took it, it was not to shake it. Instead, he bent down on one knee, making sure that his tight purple pants didn't actually touch the ground, and raised her hands to his lips where he kissed it, his lips lingering there before Lillian coughed. His childish blue eyes looked merrily up at her, for he would not remove himself from her hand. Lillian wouldn't have admitted it aloud, but with his silver hair running through his scintillating cerulean eyes, and his soft white skin smiling coyly up at her, he was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen.

'You can let go now,' she said with stern annoyance creeping into her words. Skye was the court jester and she its queen. She could almost see the ruffles of his domino and the circles painted on his cheeks as he smirked teasingly up at her, his eyes burning through her crown. He kissed her hand again, and then turned her hand to expose her wrist, laying another upon her purple veins.

Agility seemed to run through the man, for when he stood it was a swift and elegant motion. 'I'll walk you home,' he said, extending his arm to her. Though he knew this wasn't a very good idea, Skye was drawn to her. There was something about her standoffish attitude and stately glare that made him like her, made him see her as a challenge.

'I can make it home by myself.' Both her hands were once more in her pockets. She sidestepped him and began to make the long trek down the curving path. But Skye would not give up so easily.

It only took a moment for him to catch up to her. With one or two long strides he was now walking at her side, staring indiscreetly at her. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the streaks of moonlight that trickled wanly through the trees, and each time one moon-sliver fell across his face his eyes lit up with intrigue.

'I wouldn't let a beautiful young lady walk through the night. Who knows what might happen.'

Lillian decided that she wouldn't dignify him with a response. Instead she fumbled with her hands inside her pocket, looking for something she knew wouldn't be there. She had quit smoking almost a year ago, but sometimes she still had the urge to light up. Skye watched her carefully, not quite sure what to make of her silence.

In fact, the entire walk was rather silent, and though Lillian did admittedly find herself attracted to the mysterious leopard-print man, she did not know what to do with herself. It was very unusual. When she had lived in the city she was always ready and willing to court a man, to flirt with him senselessly, but here, standing next to this stranger who she knew nothing of, in the middle of the night… she was not uncomfortable with Skye, but she was not comfortable with him either. There was something amiss here, and she couldn't place her finger on it.

'I'm not going to Claire that I've met you,' she announced. Holding her head up proudly she could see that Skye was still staring at her.

'Claire? The farm girl? Why would you tell her? Are you friends?'

Just then they rounded the corner than lead directly to the main road. It was desolate at that time of night, and Lillian wondered to herself if Claire was worried about her. It had been a long walk, that was for sure, and Claire had never come back home after going out. She hoped that her friend was frantically walking back and forth, though she thought this highly unlikely. Claire knew that she ran during the night.

'We're friends, yes, but we're also roommates.'

Sunlight crept into her sleep-laden eyes and caressed her skin warmly. It was strange, Lillian thought, for she was certain last night that the clouds licking the moon would bring rain today. When a sudden shadow cast across her face and stayed there until the tinkle of raindrops could be heard, Lillian knew that she had been right the day before and that the weather was being indecisive. The sounds of Claire humming traveled through Lillian's quilts, stirring her slowly from her drowse. Something about saucepans…

'Lilly? Are you up?'

Moaning tiredly, Lillian pushed herself out of bed, stretching her arms high above her head. 'Yeah,' she grunted, 'yeah I'm up. Good morning Claire.'

'Morning. It's pretty early for you to be, actually. You got home so late.'

'Yeah...? What time is it?'

Lillian yawned as Claire told her it was a little after nine. 'Oh,' she replied lamely. Lillian kicked her legs over the side of the bed, noticing that there was a little pink scratch running across her knee; not quite a cut, but an impression. Her hands scavenged through the bag where she kept her work jeans, before she remembered the shoes she had been wearing last night. It had been too dark to clearly see them, and she hadn't wanted to turn the lights and wake Claire because of a little mud.

'Son of a bitch.'

'What's the matter?'

Lillian turned her agitated face to Claire, noticing the concern in the farmer's as she dried her dishes. 'It's nothing,' Lillian sighed, 'I just need to get some new clothes. All I have are two pairs of normal jeans, some of my favorite t-shirts and half a dozen wife beaters. I have no idea what I was thinking.' Lillian grabbed the shoes by their heels and hoisted them into the air. They dangled their like a pair of pathetic, beaten bodies swaying under the gaze of a mob. 'Look at that,' Lillian moaned, pointing to the mud that speckled the black bodies of her shoes. 'These were original Tory Burch. Beautiful black, suede, the signature logo, and they fit like a dream. I could walk for miles in these shoes. And they look so good on.'

Another defeated moan was pushed out of her and she fell back on the bed, her shoes collapsing against her chest.

'And now they're ruined. These shoes worked me through so many dates. Luca loved them. And so did Kyle. And Cecile.' Turning on her stomach Lillian screamed into her pillow and threw the shoes across the floor, almost hitting Yori. The cat hissed and scampered across the room, jumping up onto the counter as the shoes bounced against the railing of the basement stairs.

For a minute or two Claire watched her friend writhing in agony and beating the bed with her fists. It was quite amusing, but Claire knew that her friend was unhappy, which saddened her.

'I'm sorry, Lilly. Maybe you could go and talk to Muffy today, huh? She has some really cute things. Sometimes I even backorder clothes from her. She has all of these great catalogues from all over the place.' A long pathetic groan came from the bed and Claire giggled. The farmer set down her dishes, quickly pet her flustered cat before flopping down on the bed next to her friend.

'Oh, Lilly, it's alright. Just wait.' Claire stroked her friend's hair tenderly. When she noticed a single leaf there she plucked it and tossed it aside, wondering just what Lillian had been doing last night. 'Com on Lilly,' she cooed. 'Just get dressed, be pretty, and head over to the bar. Muffy can hook you up. I promise.'

'Fine,' Lillian huffed, sitting up suddenly. She cast her shoes a dirty look before she slunk out of bed and began searching through her makeshift closet. Red, blue, pink, green, black, blue, blue, red, black, orange, black. Finally Lillian pulled out a red chiffon tunic that her ex-boyfriend Ulagan had bought for her when he had shown her off to his parents (though they had told him that because she was not Indian she was not good enough for their son, and had broken up soon afterwards) with its matching earrings, her black Versace stretch jeans and, after she fought into her tunic and slid her earrings through her ears, pulled on a pair Steve Madden boots that she knew could handle a little bit of mud and rain.

Kicking up a black umbrella that she had dug out of her purse, she called to Claire, 'I'm going to see Muffy, Claire. Just like you want.'

'Have fun! And when you get back,' Claire muttered to the glass that she was cleaning, 'I have something to tell you.'

Had Lillian been a little bit less perturbed by her late wedges she might have noticed that Claire had said something or that there was a faint blush on the girls face. But the door closed and Claire was off down the road, Oscar chasing her halfway through the pattering rain, before Claire shooed him off and back to his house where Claire would let him back inside to dry him off.

Huffing and puffing down the road Lillian hardly noticed the townsfolk who were staring at her. When the ignorant young blond boy, Rock, called out to her, Lillian hardly noticed. He ran up to her before she could reach the bar and yammered on about something or other, and Lillian waited patiently enough, before telling him that she was busy but she would talk another time. The boy took it well enough, prancing merrily odd through the rain. He wore tunics too, Lillian realized as she watched him disappear into the rain. Then she turned around on her heel and pushed into the bar.

'Hello there Lillian,' came the gravelly voice of Griffin. They were friendly enough, for they were of the same breed. Lillian managed a sincere smile as she folded up her umbrella.

'Griffin. I'm surprised you're not out today. It's almost ten, isn't it?'

The bartender, who was sitting at table by a potted plant, gave a small chortle, nodding his head. 'Yes, normally I would be. But I felt like staying in today. You must have some kind of luck.'

'Is Muffy in?'

'Muffy?' queried the barkeep, one of his furry eyebrows rising. 'She wasn't feeling too well this morning, so I made her stay in. Why?'

'Do you think she's feeling any better now? I was hoping that I could talk to her about something.' Lillian beamed at the older gentleman, a mischievous glitter twinkling in her eye. 'Girl talk, you know.'

That drove the man off. He knew better than to intrude on that phrase.

'Well, yes, she said she was feeling fine when I last checked on her. Lilly, I didn't think you and Muffy were very good friends.'

If he was referring to the way that Lillian had snapped at the barista for mixing her drink wrong. It had been a bad night for Lillian, one of her first in the Valley and hadn't been much up for own mistakes much less another persons. Thinking about it, Lillian probably should have told Claire about the small incident before going off to talk to the blond bombshell. Lillian kept her smile straight on her face, admitting, 'We aren't, but I'm trying to make up for that.'

Skeptical but willing to let the tall girl make up with Muffy, Griffin pushed himself off his seat and lead Lillian in to the back room. 'Muffy!' Griffin called up a ladder leading to the loft where Muffy lived, 'You have company!'

There came a muffled, 'Alright,' and Lillian began her way up the ladder, Griffin coughing at his own uncertainty. 'Have fun, Lilly,' the older man said to her. She leaned back and winked at him, promising him that she would play nice.

When Lillian pressed through the door she saw Muffy's bright blond hair being stoked by a flat brush. The woman was sitting at a vanity (Lillian thought that very appropriate though she wouldn't have said anything) but did not bother to look into the mirror to see who it was at the door.

'Hello,' Muffy said happily, though she was quite concentrated on working out a rat's nest that had tangled itself into her hair. 'You can make yourself, ow, comfortable.'

'Before you say that I think you should know that it's me.'

Confusion set upon her face for only a moment as she tried to figure out who the voiced belonged to, but when she looked into the mirror and saw that it was Lillian her face became cold though a sneering smirk perched there. 'Oh Lilly,' Muffy said, resuming brushing her hair, 'how nice it is to see you. You really should sit down though.'

Sighing lightly, Lillian pursed her lips and walked over the table that Muffy had in her bedroom. 'I'm not trying to upset you Muffy,' Lillian said as she sat down. 'Actually, I've been meaning to apologize to you. I didn't mean to be so rude to you.'

'Oh, of course you didn't, Lilly,' Muffy said, sucking lightly on her teeth. 'That must be why you came so quickly. Why, it's only been a week, hasn't it? Quite speedy, aren't you?'

'I mean it, Muffy, I'm sorry. I'm not going to make any excuses for how long I waited, but I will tell you that I was in a sour temper that night. But that gave me no reason to snap at you. I'm sorry.'

With a loud breath through her O-shaped mouth, Muffy set down her brush and turned around on her stool. She sat there and glared at the intruder for a moment before huffing again, her face falling to something less contempt ridden. 'Fine, Lilly. I believe you. I can't say that I've been very big about it either though. I almost poured that drink on your head.'

A small laugh slipped out Lillian's wind-kissed lips and a smile spread across her face. 'I was asking for it. Though I don't think I would have apologized if you'd done it.'

Muffy smiled back at her. With her hair brushed well enough the blond girl bounced across the room, taking the seat opposite Lillian and setting her head on her interlocked hands. 'So,' she began, staring at Lillian with her huge green eyes, 'Why else did you come here?'

'Why else?' Lillian smiled again. 'You know, you're smarter than you look.'

Her lips pulled into a haughty, puckered smile and her chin drew up. Looking through her long blond eyelashes Muffy said, 'I'll pretend you didn't just insult me.'

Giggling quietly Lillian said, 'I need some new clothes but what I want isn't really nearby. Claire said that you might be able to help me.'

'Oh-ho,' the beautiful young bartended exclaimed, 'So, the little fashionista wants a little bit _more_ clothing. Well, you have come to the right place.' Muffy popped out of her seat and flounced over to her bureau where she dug around the bottom door. With an exclamation ('Ah-ha!') Muffy pranced back to the chair, laying out a dozen or so magazines from various collections. 'I assume you want something pricy,' she said as she eyed the Jardozi work on the tunic.

'Actually I need something practical. It's kind of hard to work in something when you don't want it ruined.'

Muffy nodded sagely, and said, 'When I first moved here Patrick threw up all over my favorite Elizabeth and James dress, beautiful creature, and after that I just put all of my designer in the back of my closet and started ordering cute things from cheep, obscure places.' She slipped one magazine from the bottom and tapped the cover twice with her finger. 'This is my favorite.'

'I've never heard of it,' Lillian said after reading the cover, but Muffy just shrugged and smiled. 'That's why I buy from them. No one ever knows where I get my clothes, so I always look like I'm in vogue. It drives fashionista like you up a wall.'

They spent the next three hours looking through catalogues that Lillian had never heard of, marking up their favorite things and debating over what they should choose. By late afternoon they had a list of around fifty articles of clothing and were much friendlier towards each other. Laughing at some of the more outrageous styles had been a wonderful bonding experience.

'So, that's it,' Muffy said as she set down the last magazine. 'How do you want to pay for all this?'

Lillian pulled out a small ratty wallet from her back pocket and dropped it open on the table, revealing an armada of glistening plastic. 'My ex-boyfriends keep me happy,' she said when she saw Muffy's wide-eyed stare. The girl laughed in response and picked up a card.

'Will this one work?'

'It should. That's from Bruno. He said that he would keep it paid as long as I didn't tell his wife that he'd slept with me. Of course, if I had known he was married in the first place I wouldn't have slept with him in the first place.' Lillian cast a weary glance at her new friend and said sternly, 'I'm not a slut though. We had been going out for a month before we had sex. I just don't believe in that whole "sex only after marriage" crap. If I want to go out and sex with a man, I will.'

'I used to be like that,' Muffy said, smiling out the rainy window, 'But I decided that giving myself up whenever I felt like it was… silly, I suppose. I got sick of guys thinking I was easy, so I stopped.' She turned back to Lillian with an easygoing grin. 'I'm just waiting for someone special now.'

Part of her knew that those gooey eyes Muffy was making into the distance were directed at the man who had started playing his guitar downstairs, but Lillian didn't say anything. Instead she started filling in the forms to pay for her clothes. Within half-an-hour Lillian was headed out the door, waving at Muffy through the rain.

'Gooodnight, Lilly!' Muffy called as she waved happily beside Griffin. Griffin, who looked completely mystified by the blond's sudden change of heart wave less enthusiastically and stared right at the petite blond as he hollered, 'See you around!'

In high spirits Lillian headed back to Claire's house, where she, once more, found the house deserted. There was a note scribbled across a torn piece of paper asking Lillian to make dinner. Claire would be back soon. After reading the note, Lillian took off her clothes and slipped into her favorite pair of pajamas, ones that wouldn't be stained if she spilled something on them. Quickly scanning the fridge, Lillian decided that she was in the mood for sushi, and she set about to carving a good sized fish that was wrapped inside the fridge: it was a skill she had picked up from Luca. Once she had finished she friend some rice and set out three plates, just in case Claire brought Marlin over for dinner.

Apparently the third plate was unnecessary, for Claire walked through the door twenty minutes later, beaming as she kicked off a pair of galoshes and wrung out her rain soaked hair.

'Sushi!' she cried when she saw the meal. 'Yummy! I have some sake in that cupboard if you want some to go with it.'

'Well aren't you bright-eyed and bushytailed this afternoon. Been making out with Marlin?' Lillian taunted as she snatched a handsome black sake bottle and two matching cups.

'We weren't kissing,' she defended. Claire hopped up from her seat and snatched the sushi and rice from the counter, setting it on the table so they could eat.

'But you were with him?'

'Well, yes I was with him, but we were being perfectly civil.'

'I thinking necking is perfectly civil,' Lillian purred as she whisked the sake down and placed in strategically in the center of the table. She her back on Claire's ignoring blush and grabbed the plates and two sets of chopsticks. 'But if you weren't manhandling your man, what were you doing?'

'Manhandling? Hmph. We were just hanging out. That's what friends do. They enjoy each other's company. Actually, we were talking about you, and how terrible you were to poor Grey. Before you say anything, Marlin and Grey are friends, and Grey called Marlin to ask him what he thought about you. You should be thankful. Marlin said you were very sweet, but that you're still very city. He encouraged Grey to chase after you because you, my dear, are a catch.'

Brushing the chopsticks that Claire was waving around in her face away, Lillian glowered. 'I can't believe you and your boyfriend were talking about me behind my back. I thought,' she swatted them away again, 'I thought we were friends.'

'Oh, stop your lamenting, you silly girl. I still haven't told you what happened yesterday!'

Shoving a piece of sushi into her mouth, Lillian garbled, 'Whah haphenh?'

'He asked me out!' she squealed and then fell back in her chair, clattering against the floor in one small, screeching mess of girl.

Lillian swallowed, half-chocking, as she spit out her congratulations. She fell around the table and squeezed her friend who was rolling on the floor.

'I can't believe he finally asked you out! And then you saw him today too! Oh, when are you going?!'

'Tomorrow! Lilly, I'm so excited, I can't wait!' Her eyes were rimmed with tears and sparkling with beautiful enthusiasm. 'Oh!' she screamed through clenched teeth, 'And when I went down there today I thought it would be so awkward, and it was for a minute or two, but then we were just being normal again, laughing and being friends.'

Sighing dreamily, Claire rolled herself onto her stomach, propping her head on her hands. 'It's so funny,' she said, staring blankly at the wall, 'I was sure that when I went down to buy seeds from Vesta, I was sure that he would blush and avoid me, but he was so sweet. And Vesta, oh, she was beaming all over the place, laughing when she didn't have to and smiling at us both. But Marlin… Lilly,' Claire said, gazing with huge wistful eyes, 'I am just so happy. I want you to be too.'

Lillian smiled at her friend with impassive kindness, not wanting to disturb her mood too much. 'Don't worry about me, you goof. We have an outfit to plan. What are you two doing tomorrow?'

'Well…' Claire began, and then they were off on an adventure into a dreamland. Claire was a jubilant ball of bubbles, misty-eyed and happier than Lillian had ever known her to be, and though Lillian shared in her joy, there was a small piece of her that was elsewhere; in fact, that same small piece of her had been elsewhere all day long.

Earlier that morning Lillian had told Skye that she intended to keep him her own special secret, to hold onto the one mysterious piece of her life with fervent greed, and she had meant it. The pale contrast of silver and topaz was her secret to keep and no one else would know about it. But it wasn't that secret that occupied her thoughts: it was the small bit of bravado that had overcome her at the end of their walk; that snippet of time when Lillian had turned to him and asked him to meet her at the same spot three nights later. Oh, yes, her mind was not preoccupied simply because of her dalliance with a stranger in the night, but because she too had a date to plan for.


	5. Chapter V

**NOTE: **I'm sorry that it took so long for me to get this chapter out. Not only was I a little bit stuck with it (took forever to get past the second page) but I've been dealing with stupid colleges this week and I've had to study, and there's this guy (massive giggle fit here (it shows up too)) and scholarships are due today for most schools (my top two having not responded, those terrible people) so I've been in a bit of a panic. And to top it all off I had vertigo. I wanted to kill myself. Excuses, excuses, I know, but, as the Muses in Disney's (terribly inaccurate, but lovely all the same) version of Hercules say, it's the gospel truth.

I will try to post _every weekend!_

Little clarifications now: I've been reading epic poems all week, so I have these frame stories in this chapter (at least, I'm calling them frame stories) and it's a little bit awkward for me to write like that, so this chapter might read a little… funny, for lack of a better word. Or maybe that's just me. Well, a round of thanks to everyone who has been reading, and keep it up! (Reviews, reviews, reviews)

Also, I didn't feel like re-reading it, so hopefully there aren't any mistakes. Oh well.

Now, on with the story~ (I miss acting)

* * *

Hardly an hour had passed since Claire had shot out of the house in Lillian's red Marc Jacobs 'Yili' day dress that hung a little bit lower on the petite farm girl than it had the model-size mannequin she had for a best friend, her tight fitting brown belt that had formed the dress more to her tiny body, and a pair of black laced lined leggings that had shrunk in the wash and slipped into Lillian's bag. Lillian had hardly managed to throw a brand-less navy-plaid wrap around her friend's tiny neck and pin the vintage hat onto her little head before she had dashed out the door, worn out Chucks and all (she had insisted on keeping a little piece of herself in the outfit. 'What if thought I was too fancy,' she had said as Lillian handed her the only pair of reasonably attractive shoes Claire owned). Now Lillian sat on her folded-up bed, watching the hands of the clock ticking by. It was almost one.

It had only been one day since she had seen Skye and already she was anxious for nightfall. Lillian had not been able to sneak out of the house the day before, instead sitting around and plotting with Claire. She couldn't very well refuse her best friend just so that she could meet with a man she had known for a few hours, so Lillian had stayed in all night, and fallen asleep next to Claire, who couldn't rest for excitement. But now, sitting in the cooling afternoon and watching those clocks hands jiggle their pointed fingers, Lillian found herself wonder what she would do: there would be no way for her to leave the house tonight, she told herself, unless Claire returned home extremely early the next morning, which, having watched Marlin, Lillian didn't see as a likely possibility. And when Claire returned she would definitely want to share every detail with Lillian and probably ask her to sleep in the same bed again. Lillian slid her eyes away from the smiling clock face: she wasn't going out tonight.

When a sudden, loud knock came at the door, Lillian found herself almost falling off the couch. She stumbled up, thankful that no one could see inside, and pressed her palms against the sides of her nightgown as she headed to the door.

As she opened the door she realized that she hadn't had time to change, but the realization came too late.

'Hey, Lilly. Here's that order that. You… placed?'

Standing in the doorway was a partially stunned dusty-haired ginger pulling a trolley of boxes. Lillian purred and ran around the frozen delivery boy to molest her boxes. Maybe, she thought, there was a draft in the valley, or maybe she shouldn't have been lifting her arms, for not only was Lillian freezing, but once the poor boy had turned around his pupils dilated and his fingers twitched at his sides.

'Don't just stand there,' Lillian said when she finally dared to look him in the eyes, 'help me get these boxes in. You can't walk all the way from Mineral Town on a workday and not come in.'

Stuttering some polite nonsense, Grey stumbled up to a box and then through the door. Lillian noticed that he never took his eyes away from her.

A few minutes later Lillian had her new clothing boxes open, the contents scattered across the room like a couture massacre. 'What do you think?' Lillian asked, holding up a short spotted dress with a ruffled hem and bib. 'It reminds me of _Alice in Wonderland_, but Muffy insisted that I get it. I think it would look better on her though.' The flirt cast a promiscuous glance at her friend, who was stiffly settled at the counter. 'Don't you think Muffy would look so cute in this?' she began, tapping one tender paw against the ground and revealing one of her long, white legs beneath the white ruffles. 'Like Alice herself. I could just see the look on Griffin's face: delicate Muffy dashing around the bar, filling beers and wine and drinks, her knickerbockers showing. Oh, yes,' Lillian said as she sat down next to Grey, her legs shamefully exposed, 'A little fetish doll doing house chores.

'So Grey,' Lillian shot up from the stool and sprang to the bed to grab a different outfit, 'Why are you here and not Goz? He normally comes into town today, doesn't he? He could have delivered it.'

Deciding that it would be best not to strip in front of her guest, Lillian pulled out a sailor-stripped dress (_Fables by _Barrie the tag read, though who that was, she had no idea) and slid it on over her skimpy nightgown. She grabbed a brush from the stand beside her bed and began to pull out all of the tangles from her hair, though there were few, and turned back to Grey. His lower lip was quivering slightly, still stuck on her like little flies in glue. Lillian repeated her question, patiently waiting for him to respond. When at last he did it was a stuttering jumble of words, and Lillian just gathered that Goz had sprained his ankle and couldn't make the journey across the mountains.

'Poor Goz,' Lillian simpered, letting her lip jut out a little as she set down the brush once more. She yanked her hair up into a bun and stuck it there with a series of bobbypins. 'He's okay though? Did Trent say when he'll be healed?'

The doctor's proper name stirred the smith out of his daze. His eyebrows lowered and he began biting his lip, managing to say, 'Yes. He'll be fine in a week, I guess. You know the Doctor?'

'Yes,' Lillian's voice slid evenly from her throat as she turned away, but she caught the jealousy in his eyes and her own began to sparkle at the thought of her game. 'Of course I know Trent. He's so sweet. Terribly handsome too. I met him my first week here, and he quite charmed me. He reminds me of a friend of mine, but much more attractive. And it's always good to be friends with a doctor.

'He comes by every Wednesday, like clockwork, and, if I'm not too busy, I'll walk with him up to the Goddess' pond. Who doesn't love the fresh air, right? Grey?'

Throughout her little spiel Lillian had been busying herself in the kitchen, shuffling through Claire's cabinets in search of nothing in particular, but making sure that, whatever she was doing, she was shaking and dancing around doing it: terrible flirt. But now she saw the effects of her taunts firsthand.

Poor, little Grey was six shades of pink and his large fists were rolled into a ball on the counter. 'Grey,' Lillian blurted with timid shock, 'I was only joking. I do know Dr. Trent, but I only see him once a week and hardly know him. And he stopped by once to give Claire something, and the next week to check up on her. I said a friendly hullo then, but Grey,' she rested one mitted on his balled fist, 'I was kidding. You don't have to look so concerned.'

'What?' the boy said intrepidly, pulling his hand away from hers and rubbing the skin off it. 'Concerned? What are you talking about?'

'Never mind, Grey,' she sighed, turning back to her new clothes and beginning to hand them once more. 'Forget I said a thing.' But after a moment's silence Lillian was speaking once more.

'I get that Goz can't walk properly, but why did you take his place, Grey? Isn't there anyone who doesn't have to work that can cover for him? One of the farm's is closed on Sundays, right? Why didn't the farmer bring my clothes?'

'Rick was busy,' Grey pouted, 'And the farmer was out with his wife. Plus, Gotz said he'd pay me today, and Grandpa was out, so I thought I'd head over. Look, I think I should be going.'

'I was only teasing you Grey. Please don't go. Stay. I was just about to make tea.'

The man smith had stood from his seat and was making his way toward the door when she had called him and now stood, twitching with uncertainty a step from the door. Stranded there, the blacksmith seemed to be tottering on the edge of some great dilemma. 'Please, Grey. I could use the company.'

Her plea must have stirred something inside of him, for his arms fell to his sides and his head rolled against his chest in defeat before he turned round and once more took his seat on the stool. Lillian smiled with cautious gratitude and fell back into the kitchen, clattering about in search of Claire's teapot.

Ducking into the musky cabinet to the left of the sink, Lillian asked, 'What do you like?' just before hitting her head on the frame and swearing loudly.

'Earl Grey,' her friend laughed, his mood lightened considerably by her klutz. 'Are you alright?'

'Oh, I'm just fine,' she huffed, rubbing the back of her head. She ducked out of the cabinet holding a great black teapot. 'Do you really like Earl Grey, or are you just trying to be funny?'

'I don't think it's funny.'

Pouring her eyes down upon him with a hint of curiosity bubbling behind them, she carefully set the teapot beside the sink. Her arms folded up and hit the tile, her head following soon after. 'If you say so.' But she didn't move just yet. For a moment, just a moment, Lillian bent there, her body contorted into a ninety degree angle, her sharp eyes watching discomfort sliding into the ginger's face.

'What?' he said uneasily as he leaned back on the stool to put some distance between them.

Lillian pushed herself off the counter and turned her attentions back to the tea. 'Nothing.' She fingered the faucet for a moment before turning her intelligent eyes to Grey once more.

'What colour would you say your hair is?' She flipped the spigot.

'Err… a redish orange, I guess.'

'I think so. You're an authentic redhead, right? I mean, you don't dye your hair?'

His face contorted into a strange mix of disgust and bafflement. 'No. Why would I _dye_ my hair? That's something women do.' Catching the smirk on her lips he added quickly, 'Men too, I guess, but I would never dye my hair.'

'Of course,' Lillian purred, tapping the water off and plopping the pot onto the stove. It clinked ungracefully and swiveled with the power of the water beneath her hands. Lillian crouched and began her fire, before saying, 'Would you hand me a log, Grey? They're on the other side of the counter.'

Diligently he obeyed, hopping up and quickly fetching the log, as though she had never offended him at all. When he placed the log in her hand their fingers touched. Lillian stroked his digit coyly before turning away from the blush boy and stoking the fire that was just beginning to burn in the kiln. 'Thank you Grey,' she said sweetly as she reached for the poker that Claire kept beneath the counter (a silly place to keep it Lillian thought). She listened to his feet thump clumsily against the floor and struggle to find a spot to stay before she rose, holding her sooty hands away from her dress.

'Is this what it's like being a blacksmith?' she sneered, 'Always covered in soot?'

Still slightly put off Grey tried to smile, catching his blush. He tipped his hat into his head and said, quietly, 'I guess. Soot and sweat.'

A long shiver tiptoed down her spine as she tapped the water on with her elbow. 'I could never do that: be a blacksmith; too much work and too much dirt. I'm such a girl, but I guess I've been spoiled.'

'Yeah? What did your dad do?'

'Oh,' she said, realizing what she had implied. Facing him again she waved her wet hands, flinging bits of water to sizzle against the tea pot. One hit Yori who had just jumped up to see if he could find a snack, sending him hissing back onto the floor where he glared at Lillian. 'No, no,' she said, taking up a hand towel. 'My father was a barkeep. I worked the bar with him, so I never had much time to look nice. But when I turned seventeen my father hired a boy to help around the bar, Vladislav. He was the most beautiful Russian boy I had ever seen. I had it bad and I had more time to make myself look good.

'Before Vlad, I had just worn simple clothing, because at school we had uniforms, and I never really went you, just tended the bar with my dad. Sundays we would go to church, come back, open the bar—our pastor hated that—and all I would have to wear would be a smock, a t-shirt, slacks and comfortable pair of shoes.

'Vlad taught me what allure was. See, once we hired Vlad flocks of women would come in to flirt with him. My father was handsome and single and he had always drawn a crowd, but Vlad was young and charming and he loved women. Every night he would show up at a different time, said he was keeping his women on their toes, adding mystery to himself, and then disappear into the back room. When he came back out he was always _just_ pulling his shirt on.' The kettle was calling out and Lillian swiftly removed it from the stove. 'He told me that beauty was just an advantage in life, nothing more. If you could learn to use your beauty, you could make it.

'After he told me that I started to dress myself up. Be careful. It's hot.' Lillian slid a steaming teacup across the counter and then slid into the seat next to Grey, making sure that her leg brushed his. He didn't blush though. His innocent blue eyes watched thoughtfully before they closed as he sipped his tea. When he put the cup onto the counter he said, 'You dressed up.'

'Mmm… yes. I would wear dresses, and I grew my hair out so that I could curl it, I started wearing makeup and learned what sensible heels were…' She took a long, noiseless sip from her cup. 'I started to bring in crowds. Men came from all around, because not only was there a new flock of women hovering around to see the bartender and his boy, but the bartender's daughter had finally bloomed and was a beautiful woman. One man told me I had a seductress' eyes, but I thought Vlad had much more intimate eyes than me. Not that I can see them,' Lillian added, catching the smile that looked through Grey's tea. He coughed lightly, setting the cup down.

'Go on.'

'Well,' she nodded, tapping her cup with slow rhythm, 'One night I came down into the bar—we lived upstairs—and Vlad was already there. We hadn't opened up quite yet because my father was out, so I thought it was strange that he was there. When I walked in, he just smiled at me and told me to sit down, so I did and he said that he loved me.

'It was all very abrupt, so I just laughed and told him he was joking, but when I tried to stand he swore in Russian and pulled me over the counter so that I fell on top of him. It was terribly awkward, and I almost thought of giving men up completely, but he apologized, kissed me and went to work.

'Am I too far off topic?'

'What topic?'

'Exactly.' Lillian rose from her seat so that she could walk into the kitchen. 'I was talking about being girly. Would you like another cup?'

A bashful smile crossed his blue-eyed smile and he tucked into his hat, muttering, 'I like to hear things about you. It' interesting.' Then he pressed his teacup with his palm, saying the tea was very good and he would love more. Lillian wondered if he really had work to do. But she smiled anyway, whisking his empty cup up and filling it once more.

'If you insist,' elle à dit. 'That kiss… it was the first time I had ever been kissed by a man who wasn't my father, so I was terribly upset all night. When my father asked what was wrong, I told him that Vlad had kissed me, and he got this look in his eyes like he was about to kill the boy. I told him it was fine, but he kept on threatening to fire him or some such nonsense, but we needed him because I was off to college soon, and he couldn't keep the bar by himself. I told my father I would talk to him.

'I caught him on his break, chatting with this curvy blond woman, and asked him to talk. He looked a little bit hesitant, but he say goodnight to the woman and we went into the back room.

''Vlad,' I said, 'Vladislav, what were you thinking?' He just smiled at me, took my hand and said that I was like him, that he felt we were kindred spirits, and he enjoyed being with me. He went on and on for several minutes and in the end asked if I would be his girlfriend, and I was so dumbfounded by his wordy confession that I said yes. After that he bought me clothes, and pampered me more than anything, and I became addicted to the lifestyle. Have I tied it in well enough now?'

Grey nodded his capped head, saying, 'Pretty well, yeah,' and then ran his thumb over the rim of his teacup handle. 'So you speak Polish,' he pondered aloud, 'And you've dated a Russian… so do you speak Russian too?'

'A little bit,' Lillian nodded. She placed her hand on top of his, wrangling the now empty teacup from his large, brawny hands. At one point he lifted his fingers and she could feel the calluses that coated his skin, and shivered. Working hands. Grey didn't seem to notice. 'Enough to know when not to listen to a conversation and how to find a bathroom. I used to know more. Do you wanna go for a walk?'

'What?'

'You know: a walk. Feet moving, hands swinging at your side, air: a walk.' Spontaneity had taken Lillian's mind far from Vladislav and her father and the bar, and were leading her ten minutes down the road to the river. 'I feel like kicking my shoes off and falling in the river.'

'But,' stumbled the boy, his brow squirming with confusion, 'it's fall. Isn't it a little cold to be swimming?'

'I just want to dip my feet in. Come on,' Lillian snatched his hand, his teacup clattering for a split second against the counter before rounding to a stop, 'it'll be fun.'

Smiling at him with all the joy of a child, Grey found that he had little defenses against the girl. A small, defeated sigh slipped under the brim of his hat, a he smiled quietly at her, nodding as she dragged him across the floor. Lillian slipped into a pair of lacy white bloomers and a pair of navy platforms before grabbing her friends hand once more and dashing out the door, catching her coat quickly on the way out. Grey rationalized that the silly creature beside him had never had the childhood that others had had, and so, some times, pieces of her repressed childhood slipped out and took control of her. Lillian never would have admitted to it, but he was probably right.

'Lillylillylillylilly Lilllllllyyyyyy!!!'

Deafening giggling, girlish screams echoed across the wood floors, scattering the dog and cat from their slumbers and raising Lillian from where she had sprawled herself out on the bed. The farmer's hair was frizzing and her dress had a little mud splattered along the hem, but her face was lit with ecstatic

'Oh, Lilly Billy,' Claire sighed, her eyes lolling dreamily in their sockets. Soon she was rolling around like a dog in dead fish. 'I agree with everything you've ever said!' she squealed.

Lillan was sitting, stunned by the door, her ears crackling with noise. If Claire had come any earlier she would have walked in on she and Grey, sprawled out on the couch. She grabbed her hair and tossed it up into a ponytail, trying to straighten her dress a little bit more. 'Have a good night, hunny?' she said as she ran her ring finger around her lower lip. Hopefully they weren't too puffy.

'Lilly!' Claire shouted, springing into a sit on the bed, pillow trembling excitedly beneath her talons. 'Lilly, Lilly, Lilly!'

'Claire, Claire, Claire.' Lillian wasn't sure she was ready to be gossiped to. But Claire's eyes were fixed on her friend with no intention of letting up. She glowered at her friend, burning holes through her guilty self and scorching the wall. The farm girl's intensity soon gave way and a seam-splitting smile ripped across her face, smitten and love struck and giddier than a school girl. The silly thing fell back, her dress flying around her twitching body, and there she lay, a pile of flighty, frantic infatuation.

After a short period of watching the bubbles and rainbows pop out of her friend's head, Lillian stood up, sitting herself next to the squirming body.

'I take it you had a good time.'

'Good?!'

The faerie flipped herself over, her giant blue eyes pouring out of her head, beaming at Lillian. She gave the pillow one last wring before flinging her arms away from her body, letting the pillow fly into a very upset cat and her hand into the head of her best friend.

'It was _wonderful_!' she wailed as Lillian jumped, holding her head.

A peal of laughter came out of the taller girls mouth and scattered Yori into the depths of the basement where there were no crazy women throwing pillows or tripping with large men on top of his furry beauty. His blazing yellow eyes were just visible through the rails as Lillian fell, still coddling her forehead, onto the bed. Claire grabbed onto Lillian like a baby monkey, giggling and still trying to roll.

'We, we started at the farm,' Lillian choked, 'And then, we went down to the hot springs, and just walked around, but Marlin slipped, and fell in and I tried to get him out but, but your clothes,' she snickered, her eyes glittering with tears. 'I pulled him out, and he tried to thanks me, but I ran away, and he chased me, and, and we, we ended up back at the farm, soaking, and Vesta made him change. So I was just standing there and Celia was glaring at me and Vesta was egging me on, and dropping all sorts of hints' Claire said, exhausted. She flung her arm to the opposite side of Lillian, hitting her hand on the bed post. They laughed a little while longer before Claire stifled through the rest of her story.

'Wh-when he came back' she snickered, 'Celia tried to whisper to him, but Vesta battered her away and we left the house. He's was all shy, but I nudged him and he was blushing at me, and he nudged me back and then we just started talking. He had his hands in his pockets half way to the bar, which is where we ended up, but I,' here she gave a dreamy sigh and let go of Lillian, falling hazily to the bed, her eyes off in another reality, 'I took his arm and snuggled up to him. He was really quiet, Lilly, but he was flushed straight through, and so was I, and I kept giggling.

'So... so when we got to the bar he had had Griffin set up a table for us over in the corner, and he must have sent Muffy out because I didn't see her for a while. See, Marlin had talked Griffin into closing the bar for the night, so it was just me and him and Griffin playing his guitar for us.' Another sigh curled into the air, and her bedazzled eyes grew hazy with the recollection of her night. Claire watched, fascinated.

'We ate and drank a little bit of wine, and it wasn't too dark, and there weren't candles, which was nice, and it smelled like honeysuckle... Lilly...?' Claire's voice dropped several levels, until she was almost whispering. The delicate blond turned to her friend, her eyes large, clear, and very sincere. 'I've never felt this way about a man before.'

There was no second guessing what she meant by it. Lillian slid closer to the little woman, slipping her arms under her weightless body until she was pressed against her body. Lillian had never been much of a touchy-feely person with her girl friends, but she found the hug natural. Smiling into the top of her head, Lillian placed one loving kiss atop her golden grown, and said 'I'm so happy for you Claire.' The two of them lay there, comfortable in their closeness as they each recalled their nights, Lillian's mind lingering on Grey's calloused hands.

How much time had passed when Lillian's stomach decided to break the silence, neither knew, but they fell apart smiling and headed for the kitchen. Finally awake to her surroundings Claire inquired after Lillian's new dress.

'This? Oh, my things came in today.'

'Today?' Claire said, surprised. She bent over, taking off her shoes and tossing them at the door before she went to shuffle through the fridge. She peered over her shoulder, watching her companion making them drinks. 'That was quick, wasn't it? I mean, you were with Muffy yesterday.'

Lillian shrugged as she forced a long blue tongue of something Claire couldn't recognize from a bottle. 'I paid extra.'

Knowing something about Lillian's illustrious history Claire avoided the subject, literally ducking her head, though it was from an opening cabinet and not the question itself. Instead she decided to ask about Gotz and how he had seemed that afternoon.

'Oh, it wasn't Gotz. Apparently he sprained his ankle and he couldn't get through the pass,' Lillian said, repeating what Grey had told her earlier. With a small exclamation ('Oh!') the pair went through a similar conversation to the one that Lillian and the blacksmith had had earlier that day, but when Lillian mentioned the boy Claire caught her up, changing the subject to the ginger.

'Grey delivered it?' she said with a twinkle in her eye. 'I hope you were nice to him.'

'I was perfectly civil, Claire,' Lillian said with her nose in the air. She whipped around the counter and sat on the barstool that Grey had taken a few short hours before. 'I invited him and we had tea, and then we went out for a quick walk.'

Confusion stirred around with intrigue on Claire's face rather like the blue cocktail's that Lillian had concocted for them. 'You went out together?' Her voice peaked quietly as she watched her stir fry sizzling in its pan. 'Funny. I didn't see you two when Marlin and I were out.'

A plastic coated smile sprang to Lillian's lips and watched Claire's back as she cooked. Her fingers began tapping erratically against the base of her cocktail, jostling her face that was perched on her palm. 'It wasn't a very long walk,' Lillian lied honestly. 'To the head of the pass and back. I sent him off and was back home before sunset.'

For the most part her story _was_ true. She had invited Grey in though she left out changing in front of him and wearing a nightgown when he had first knocked, she had invited him in and they had had tea, but she left out her life story (no need to regale the girl), they had gone for a walk, but they had returned _together_ after Lillian had said something silly about love and one or three of her ex-boyfriends and Grey had reacted so avidly that she had kissed him, and she had returned before sunset after she and Grey raced back to the house where they had slammed the door and fallen onto the bed in a fit of pent up passion. There they had ruffled the bed cover and each other, leaving little lines of pink circles dotting their skin. It had actually been quite timid, as far as Lillian was used to, for, after a long period of swapping spit Lillian had tried to make the next move, only to be blocked by the blushing ginger's calloused hands.

'Not yet,' he had instructed her, and instead she stood up, walked over to the couch, patted the spot next to her and said that if all he wanted was to get to second base then they shouldn't dishevel the innocent bed (for it certainly had no experience in the matters of the Netherlands). Grey had bashfully agreed, though somewhat reluctantly, to sit next to her, and soon he was on top of her once more, her long, delicate fingers pulling him closer to him. But it couldn't last.

When the clock struck seven Grey let loose a colourful nouns, verbs, and adjectives, apologized profusely, reluctantly pulled away from Lillian's pouting and very welcoming lips, and then shot out the door faster than a rocket ship. Ten minutes later Claire had bounded through the door, raising the dead and breaking her poor pets' ears, though Claire had not moved since her own playmate had made his getaway. She had been too busy thinking of the ginger and of other man she had dangling from her fingers.

Oh yes, Lillian thought, she had been quite honest, but she had left out some of the most important details.

'I hope you're hungry,' Claire smiled, whipping around with a pan full of fried strings, 'Because I made way too much.'

Thirty minutes later it was too late for Lillian to go out for her jog, so she spent the night in with Claire, wondering if Skye noticed her absence and thinking quietly to herself of the trouble she was brining with her from the city. With a swift and hopeful goodnight Lillian fell into the tender arms of her bed, and was carried off into a dark land of silver and bronze, where bright topaz stars burned in the night sky, watching her.


	6. Chapter VI

**NOTE: **ARGH! This chapter is so annoying! And I'm three pages in right now! I had no idea what to do for their date, so please, _please_ tell me what you think of it. I asked my _mom_ for help on it, that's how annoying it was. My. MOM. I love her, but I don't ask her for writing help.

Five pages in what drove me crazy was _La Reine de Saba._ I've made it before, but I never got the chance to eat any. It's called a room full of inconsiderate underclassmen. Love 'em! So, seeing as how it is St. Valentine's Day, the day with no authentic value anymore, I decided to make it. If anyone has the opportunity or time, try it out. It's an _amazing_ cake if made properly. Thank you Julia Child!

Oddly enough I was okay with coq au vin and ratatouille, though I did convince my mom to make coq au vin for the lovely day (haha). Why the French base, you ask? I was in the mood. As it is French language, food and some music make me happy. And my French professor drives me up a wall, so French is consequently constantly on my mind (she has the weirdest accent in the history of the world. She apparently learned to speak in New Orleans so she has this American twang to it. I dunno. It's just weird).

And thanks to my best friend for taking astrology! Have I given this chapter away? A little.

In the end, I had fun with this chapter. Skye will be in the story much more now.

Anyway, babbling aside, here's the next chapter.

* * *

The next day passed productively for both of the women living on the farm. Chores were done in a timely manner, the kitchen was used, gifts were deliver, men were flirted with and although this did slow time for a few moments it was quickly regained through a short jog to the mines where minerals were collected and, upon returning, more flirting was done. Claire decided to stay behind a while at Vesta's farm, leaning over the fence and talking with Marlin and Vesta instead of taking her friend home. Lillian insisted that it was alright, and went on ahead, loosing herself to her clothing. She had the outfit planned by the time she was at the front door.

Black-and-white-plaid skinny jeans tucked into a pair of lace-up leather boots with a sturdy heel, a generic black tunic with the simple red Moschino cardigan that Cecil had bought her. Out of her work clothes in a matter of seconds Lillian fled to the bathroom, where she spent the better part of the next hour. Claire called to her when she finally got home, but by that time Lillian was already out, dressed, and well on her way to the Goddess' pond.

Legs kicking quickly behind her, Lillian tucked her hands into her pockets. It was getting colder every day, she noticed. She acknowledged the date, but the middle of autumn had sprung upon her more quickly than she liked. It seemed she had only left the summer parties of her bohemian friends days ago, and in fact, it had been little more than two weeks. A small shiver tickled her spine as she realized that she should have worn more than just the cardigan.

One narrow hand popped out of its cozy pocket to pluck one of her intentionally jumbled hairs from her mouth when a long, echoing shout burst forth from behind her, rolling through the air like hot laughter. The voice was unfamiliar but she turned to face it anyway. Once she had she regretted it.

Bouncing up the road was a slender blond boy, beaming up at her with his closed eyes. She wondered how he could run without seeing anything. He waved at her enthusiastically until he was close enough to talk. He stopped a few steps away, greeting her with over eagerness.

'Rock,' Lillian said with her fake smile clinging desperately to her lips, 'What a pleasant surprise.'

'Hello Lilly!' he shouted, his voice reminding her of a small child, 'You look nice today!'

'Thanks,' she snuffed, scritching her thigh with her index finger. 'Is there something you want Rock?'

The exuberant blond tossed his dangling bangs from his amber eyes, letting them twinkle a moment before nodding his head and explaining that she had ignored him the other day. 'I was wondering if you would want to do something today.'

Lillian's eyes hardened and her lips pursed together. The boy had awful timing. She lifted her hand from her leg and bent it against her mouth, resting the arm atop the other. 'Rock,' she began, waving her hand away, 'as nice as I'm sure that would be it's getting a little late,' she threw her hand around to show that it was, indeed, quite dark before setting it against her high cheekbone.

'You're a handsome fellow, Rock.' The innkeeper's son smiled at this. He knew that he was attractive and never tired of hearing it said. Lillian wasn't lying when she had said it either. With his large resin eyes set into his boyish face, naturally dark but outlined with a halo of golden hair, his finely toned body with what was, Lillian could tell when a gust passed by, a set of strong abs, and his flattering choice of clothing, Rock was an striking man. She also had noticed his flirtatious nature that would have made him an incompatible partner for herself and his childish mannerism. 'I think being your friend would be quite nice,' His face fell at this, 'I did have plans for tonight. And Lillian tells me you have a girl, Miss Lumina from the hill, who I'm sure would not want you to be off flirting with another woman.'

The boy stuttered and blushed when she mentioned of the rich pianist. After an awkward moment Rock pledged himself to finding the time to speak with Lillian further before he rushed off into the ever increasing darkness that blanketed the road.

With a satisfied smile Lillian turned toward the Goddess' pond once more, feeling her normal joviality smothering the small nerves that had bundled together at the tips of her fingers. They fell from her hands now and her steps became great, powerful strides. Now she knew that she was prepared for whatever the mysterious Skye had in mind for her.

When Lillian arrived at the pond she resumed the stance that she had taken several nights before, folding her arms across her chest, sticking one leg a little bit further away from her than the other and staring with childish mystification out across the glowing waters. It still fascinated her, the luminescent water, and although she knew the reason behind the light she could not help but wonder if there truly was something mystical going on. She let a small laugh roll from her lips and in response came a light mate. Lillian turned around, and there, wearing much the same outfit that he had been several nights before, stood the mysterious Skye. His pants were black, she noted, and his shirt a light blue.

'Hello,' she said with a simple smile and nod of the head. 'I see you came early.'

Skye smiled at her slyly, peering past her body and into the florescent waters. 'I did,' he said, his eyes rushing up to capture hers, 'I knew that there was a beautiful woman waiting for me. I couldn't leave you waiting.'

'I was early too. Did you plan on upstaging me?'

The elegant man shook his head, his smile still glistening through the heavy darkness. 'No. You struck me as punctual, so I left earlier than usual. I wasn't quite sure when you would get here, but I knew that it would be before I arrived.'

Lillian tilted her head back, staring across the darkness and at his regal languor. She wondered if he could see her smiling at him through the darkness, and stepped through the night until she was inches from him.

'Shall we be going?' she asked, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

The fair haired mischievian sent her a glimmering smile, dipping into her. Lillian raised her eyebrows with a roguish grin, thinking that her newest suitor meant to kiss her, but he ducked back, standing off to her side, his arm laid across the darkness a guide for the blind, and nodded with his head, leading her. 'After you,' he said with his thin lipped smile.

Gentlemen had never been quite Lillian's breed. Something about the courteousness of their courtship had always been too slow and had never held the passion that Lillian had grown accustomed to. Despite this she smiled, bowing her head with a small, debating laugh, and began the walk down the road. Skye was at her side in a step, and soon the conversation began to ease her into a softer uncertainty. Skye was a very charming man. He could weave a witty anecdote, tell a terrible tale and swing her softly back to normality. They laughed quietly, lost in their own private world, where the city would not have let them alone.

During the short, isolated stroll Lillian learned that Skye was a chef for a rich man who sometimes came through town, though he would not tell her who the man was.

'The mystery,' he insisted, brushing his hand across the air, 'is the key to everything.'

'Too mysterious and you make a girl wonder what it is you're hiding,' Lillian quipped.

Skye smiled at this, his sanguine eyes alight, and offered her his arm. Lillian snickered at the gesture, but took his arm none the less, adding quietly as she looked across at him, 'Such a gentleman.'

'Some women like it,' he chuckled. 'What has metropolis done to its young ladies, Lillian?'

Lillian. She liked it when he called her that. As they reached the head of the trail she set her hand down atop his, patting it with a patronizing coo. 'I don't think that cities breed young ladies anymore. So, Skye,' her voice came quickly enough to stop the gourmet before he could force upon her his own opinion, 'what was it you had in mind?'

His jovial smile flickered back into his doubtful eyes, whipping about like a flame in a gust. He herded her to their left, and soon they were pattering noiselessly across the foot bridge. It was rather odd, Lillian noticed, that as they did cross Skye hardly made a noise. In fact, the whole walk she could not remember hearing the squish of more than one pair of shoes through the dirty road. True, she had not devoted her time to listening to their footsteps through the night, but now that she had realized it she could not stop listening for a sound. All there seemed to be was the click of her boots across the wood and then the patter of soles to dirt.

After a few short minutes of walking, Skye stopped, dragging Lillian to a halt beside him. 'Here,' he said, looking at her with a smile.

'Vesta's farm?'

The angelic man smiled at her with a bashful yet coy smile. 'I hope you don't mind. They don't know we're here though, so we'll have to keep it a secret.'

'Another secret?' she chuckled disbelievingly as he took her hand, pulling her quickly into the pitch-blackness of the storage room. 'We just meet, and now you're stealing me away, trespassing, and asking me to keep secrets? You really must love mystery!'

Skye chuckled softly, twirling the girl around as he snapped the door into its place. Alone in the overwhelming emptiness of night Lillian circled until she hit something solid at her thigh. A table perhaps? The void soon became more familiar, more comfortable. She could hear Skye shuffling about, looking for something, and on the other side of the wall, the low, guttering snores of the inhabitants of the house that was only a hop away.

'I'll admit,' Lillian said as she patted her hands blindly, 'I haven't broken into anyone's house since I was seventeen. It's a little bit exciting actually.'

Without warning a match struck and a delicate light enveloped the face of the white haired gentleman. His face was much closer than Lillian had thought, and a small smile flickered across her face. Skye returned the gesture before straightening up, for they were both crouched to find the table, and said, 'Please. Have your seat.'

Lillian quickly stepped to the chair that Skye held his hand to and proceeded to fold her dress under her, realizing that her initial impressions of the man were not entirely true. He was indeed polite, even overly so, but his smirk was not unwarranted: there was a trickery to the man that may have been stronger even than his pleasant manner and curiosity.

Once she was seated she tore her eyes from the face of her host and let them instead ravage the table, taking in every slight detail. It was of simple wood, but not the one from where Vesta normally sold her product: this one was round and showcased a pair of shimmery white plates with a full silverware set, napkins and glasses. The candelabrum was a nice touch, she thought, watching as Skye's nimble fingers curled around the stubbly black wicks that jetted proudly from their bodies.

'Dinner in someone else's house? I give you points, but I've done this before.'

'You're quite hard to please, aren't you?' Skye chuckled, waving the match out before folding into the shadows that the tiny, gold bodies cast. He emerged from the hazy blackness quickly, two silver domes staring at the red-capped girl from each of his hands. One he placed before Lillian and the other where he would sit. Then he fetched a bottle of wine, popping the cork quickly and pouring the wine with expert flare, which needless to say impressed the vinophile.

'You're quite good at that.'

'You sound surprised,' he said softly, keeping his eyes on the deep red wine that flashed its golden eyes with each stirring movement. 'Being a sommelier comes with my trade. If you're a high-end chef you ought to know what wine to serve with your meals. How do you like rooster?'

'You mean chicken?' she giggled, though her brow drew together with confusion.

'No, rooster. Traditionally coq au vin is made with rooster, hence the word coq instead of poule or cocotte. I like to preserve parts of the original taste, so instead of using a hen, as in common now, I use a fresh rooster. A hen doesn't have quite the same flavour, though it is only a subtle difference. Rather like a preference for a black or yellow legged chicken in France.' His eyes flashed up at her, sparkling like the Mediterranean under a full moon. 'You've never had rooster?'

'I… I don't believe I have. I've never had coq au vin, you said?'

He nodded.

'I've never had coq au vin, either.'

Once he lifted the lid on their respective dinners he sat down, placing them atop a basket that he had set on the floor. He folded his hands beneath his chin, watching Lillian react to the meal he had labored over.

The smell was overpowering, rushing over her with euphoric waves. Warm but heavy with herbs and butter, a very thick, homey smell. The tart flavour of wine carried through the musty scent and hit her heavily across the bridge. She could feel a rush of saliva pooling around her gums as the warm, earthy smell of a classical broth overtook her. But she wasn't about to give in to the ebullient face across the table.

'It looks like gumbo,' she muttered, picking up her fork and knife delicately. Skye chuckled at this and sat up, lifting his utensils and carefully starting on his meal. Lillian followed suite once he had taken a bite of his and immediately closed her eyes.

'Oh my god,' she moaned as she swallowed the first bite, 'I can't believe… did you really make this?'

Her eyes were settled on the smiling shade, though they were only partially in the world. They fluttered closed then open, watching him delicately.

'I did. I'm glad that you enjoy it.'

'You have no idea,' she whispered, ravishing the meal greedily. He told her to make sure she ate the mushrooms and onions as well, for they were not as potent as they might be naturally and brought out the flavour of the dish. Lillian's fork twitched in her hand, but she controlled the impulse to dive into the dinner, taking a sole bite before setting down her fork and reaching for the wine. But as she did this her senses were once more taken over. Although she had not yet sipped the wine the smell was strong and musty like an old cabin, sharp but delicate.

'What wine is this?' she asked, forcing the wine from her nose. 'I've never smelled anything quite like it.'

'Oh, it doesn't matter,' Skye said as he cut into a piece of the seared bird. 'It's good to have a healthy knowledge,' he said, locking his eyes onto hers, 'but you haven't even tasted it. Go ahead.'

Interest flashed like a small storm inside her eyes and she stared for a long moment into the wine. It was too dark for her to see the real colour of the wine, but it must have been a very deep, scarlet, for the refractions of light from Skye's glass showed brightly across the table. She raised her glass above her head, watching it deepen, and then pulled it to her once more. She twirled the stem, letting the alcohol breath before she inhaled once more. It was powerful. But just as she raised the glass to her lips Skye called for a toast.

'A toast?' she asked, bringing the glass hesitantly near her chest.

'It's only right.' He lifted his round-bottomed glass until it was almost above the candelabrum, and then said, 'A toast to the beautiful Lillian and her impeccable taste… in wine. I'm sorry I didn't say it earlier, but I wanted to know what you thought. Bon appétit, Lillian.'

The wine was resting delicately on his lips a moment before he drank, waiting for Lillian to do the same. She did with curious anticipation but immediately drew back. A small gasp fell across the table before her eyes began to search his face.

'This wine… Skye… I've never… how did you…?'

'My employer enjoys fine wines. Sometimes I take one or two home with me. I'm just glad to have shared it with you.'

'What is it?'

'There's no label. It's a homebrew from a couple in France that have been dead for several decades now. My employer was friends with their great-grandchildren and convinced them to give him a number of their bottles. I wish I could tell you more.'

'Oh,' she whimpered, taking another sip, 'So do I. I didn't even know wine could taste so… rich. It's magnificent.' She placed the glass on the table once more, looking across it before catching Skye's gaze. She smiled at him with simple wonder, unable to comprehend the man. A mumbled 'thank you,' passed over her plump lip before she resumed her meal.

The night passed more pleasantly than Lillian had ever imagined. Skye was truly a connoisseur of the culinary arts, for his meal was one beyond anything Lillian had ever tasted, much less thought existed. Although the dinner was not of conventional course, there was more than one plate to be served. After the coq au vin ( which was served with a side of toasted bread to catch the thick sauce that remained) came a small dish of ratatouille that was simple and eased the descent from the flavorful principal dish. Next Skye brought out a plate of various cheeses to cleanse the palate.

'And for dessert,' he said once they had finished sampling the cheese, 'I brought something special. My mother,' he began, reaching behind him to grab a small covered plate that he had set out when he had gotten the cheese, 'when I was little, would use a recipe that she had learned from a young Frenchman on her travels. He had told her that the recipe was one that had had been named after the ravishing Queen of Sheba, Makeda, who was seduced by King Solomon. The young queen was rich and beautiful, the envy of many, and so, the Frenchman said, it was only right that my mother had the recipe that suited her description.'

'So this Frenchman gave your mother a recipe because she was rich and beautiful?'

'Beautiful,' Skye smiled, shrugging his shoulder as Lillian leaned over the table, eyeing him humorously. '_La Reine de Saba_: the Queen of Sheba. It's one of my favorite cakes. But I'm afraid,' he said, finally lifting the cap over his creation, 'That I've hardly brought enough for two.'

Lying royally across a golden plate was a single, thin slice of chocolate cake. Lillian could see the curves across its top where individual slabs of chocolate met and overlapped, each body sprinkled with cocoa powder, a single raspberry to hold in the dark. There were fine black lines running across the plate, and Lillian wondered what they were.

'If your first four courses are any indication this must be divine.'

'Do you mind sharing?'

'Sharing?' she whispered incredulously, quickly casting a glance at the beautiful young creature splayed out across the plate like a woman. Her eyes caught his playfully. 'Of course I don't. Can I have a fork?'

'Of course,' he grinned, turning quickly to get a fork. In the small time gap he took for his search Lillian pulled her chair around the table so that she could sit with him. He wasn't surprised when he turned around, but his smile flourished in the flames as he looked at her only a lean away. 'I have two,' he smirked, handing her one. She took it carefully, and, once he had indicated that she would get the first bite, cut a small slice of the cake. Instead of eating it as Skye had expected her to she offered the fork to him, asking quietly, 'Would it be too awkward if I fed you?' The man just chuckled, plucked the fork from her and held it a short distance from her lips. She leaned in, taking the bite, and rolled her eyes in ecstasy. Raspberry purée, chocolate and a hint of salt.

'Again,' she groaned, placing her hand to her chest. 'I can't believe that you _made_ all of this. It's incredible Skye, really. I've never had anything so wonderful.'

Skye laughed, taking a forkful of the cake for himself, and smiling contentedly at her as she picked up her own fork and continued to eat. She felt a bit of a glutton, but she was so impressed with the cake that she did not think too much of her behavior. And even if she had, Skye's obvious entertainment would have dissuaded her unease. They chatted quietly as they ate, as they had all night long, and when at last the last piece was left they smiled at each other, wondering who would get the last bit.

'I think I've had more than you,' Lillian said with a guilty smile.

'Oh, I don't mind. I can make it any time. I think you should have it.'

'But what do you get from it? I have nothing to give to you.'

'Oh?' Skye laughed, rolling back in his chair. 'I think you've given me plenty. You warmed up to me, you love my food, and you're a beautiful woman. I couldn't think of anything better.'

Lillian snorted at this sitting back with her arms crossed across the blue lips that glimmered on her shirt. She had taken the cardigan off a while back, and had stopped caring if she crossed her legs or not.

'Is that all you need, Skye? Please, take the last piece. I don't think I could handle anything else. It's all too extravagant for a country girl.'

'You're not from the country, Lilly.'

At the sound of her shortened name she startled, her head cocking and her lips parting slightly. Lilly. It sounded different when Skye said it. There was almost something sensual about it. She leaned in, folding her elbows on her knee and propping her head up with the back of her hand. She smiled at Skye, who automatically smiled back, and then said, 'I suppose not. But I feel like I am right now. Take it. If I feel desperate for more I might ask you to bake me a whole cake.'

The albino-esque man leaned back in his tottery old chair, holding his knee with his long, crossed fingers. 'I'll take the last piece, but only if you give it to me. Otherwise I'll feel like I'm cheating you; stealing something. I don't know if I could live with myself.'

A long, hushed laugh rolled from the back of Lillian's throat, cascade across the table and landing happily on Skye's ears. She just smiled, waiting to see what the handsome woman would do next.

'Well,' she scoffed, uncurling her body and throwing back her arms. She peaked at him as she exposed her chest, wondering just what the gentleman would do. His expression did not waver, and she respected him for it. 'Alright, Skye. You win.' Lillian picked up the fork delicately, and then leaned forward until she was almost on top of him. 'Enjoy.'

Skye opened his mouth, leaning in to take the small bit of chocolate cake from her. The sweet sting of raspberry purée stuck to the top of his mouth before melting in with the chocolate. He let his lips linger on the fork, staring at her the whole time, before at last drawing away.

'Are you too tired to do anything else?' he inquired, not letting his date linger too long in her happiness.

'I don't think so. Here, let me help you.'

'No, sit, please. I made it, I'll clean it up. Just sit there. Let me watch you while I work.'

'I feel like I should help you even more now.'

'Why?' he asked as he stacked the plates that he had brought into a padded plastic tub.

'Because you sound so terribly sexist. I'm not a princess who needs to be saved from the dreaded dishes, Skye. I've lived on my own for years.'

'All the more reason to pamper you.'

'Ah, ha.'

It only took a few minutes for Skye to have all his things packed away, snugly and safely for the night, and soon they were once more on the road. He had stashed the basket in-between a number of barrels, saying he would return and collect them on the way back up the path.

'Where do you live, anyway?' Lillian asked after he explained his methods.

'It's a secret.'

'Isn't everything with you?'

'Not everything. Now… the waterfall or the hilltop?'

When they had left the farm they headed south, having decided that the mist from the waterfall would chill them both far too much for enjoyment. They walked quietly and slowly through the fragile illumination of the night, chittering like children, and as happy as could be. They spoke of Lillian mostly, of her life and her childhood, and of course of the time that she had broken into the abandoned house in the suburbs that her boyfriend had taken her to when she was seventeen. 'He was an awful cook,' she admitted, 'So he had bought Thai and we ate it in the grand foyer until a group of gangbangers came in and scared us out. I thought I was dead for sure when they saw what I was wearing, but they let us be. I think it had something to do with Vlad, but he never said anything about it.'

'What were you wearing,' Skye inquired, his look of bemused interest, but with a hint of sexual interest lingering behind his eyes. She couldn't tell if he had looked down her shirt just then or not.

'Oh, a short button-up dress that was partially unbuttoned and a bright white bra. I was young and with my boyfriend in a very romantic setting. He was much more forward than you, Skye. Not the gentleman that you are.' She elbowed him playfully, giggling at him as they turned the corner that lead up the hill. 'Isn't this where that elderly couple lives?' she asked, finally realizing where they were.

'Maybe,' he admitted. But he would not let the subject go. 'Are you sure the problem is man and not you? I'm not terribly forward, as you said, but you didn't stop him.'

'We're not going to talk about my ex-boyfriend. I've done that, and I know it never ends well.'

'Alright,' Skye snickered as he squeezed her arm a little tighter, 'But I am glad I'm a better chef.'

They laughed together until they reached the top of the hill, where a lone blanket had been laid across the crest, just to the side of a large, lichen-spotted boulder. They sat quietly on the blanket, continuing their conversation until Lillian lay down.

'One of the things I don't miss about the city,' Lillian sighed as she folded her arms across her stomach and pulled her legs in, 'is the night sky. Where I lived you could see a star of two if you were lucky, but they seemed opaque, like there was always something holding them back.'

'Not here,' Skye grunted softly as he lay down next to her. 'I could tell you every star in the night sky.'

'And I could tell you every story behind it.'

'Oh?' laughed the shade, his eyes reflecting the stars as though they were lost in the sea, 'What about constellations? How do you feel about Orion?'

'Well... he's made of seven stars: Betelgeuse, one of my favorite, Rigel, Bellatrix, Mintaka, Alnilam, Alnitak, and Saiph, but that's so technical. I prefer the myth behind it. Orion, in the most common mythological association, was a Greek hunter, the killer of giant scorpions . But Scorpio,' Lillian rolled into Skye so that she could get a better view of the star, 'is in the sky too, because he was part of the story and the gods felt the need to raise him up alongside the fighting Orion. I bet you know about his belt though.'

'I do,' laughed Skye. 'I didn't think I would be unleashing a solar titan when I brought you here. Tell me about Betelgeuse,' he said, the laugh still floating through his melodious voice.

'Well, I don't know quite what to say about it. It's one of my favorites for his name. _Betelgeuse_. He's a red supergiant and someday, he'll go supernova, lighting the sky with his power. He's a powerhouse who's been hiding behind his beauty. I'm not sure though... there are a few different theories about him and his name.'

'He's a handsome star though.'

Lillian laughed and agreed, rolling onto her side so that she might lord over him. 'What's next,' she whispered, hanging above his chest with wild eyes holding his face.

'How about that one,' he said pointing at a small star in the diminishing summer sky.

'Aldebaran. It's a beautiful star. I always feel bad for it though.'

'Oh,' chuckled the phantom, 'And why is that? If it's so beautiful?'

'Aldebaran is a star that is taught as a normal star, not really of any notice.' The pout on her face disappeared as Lillian turned to stare at Skye, her eyes open and mellow. 'I'm glad you noticed it. You must do this quite often to have chosen Alddebaran. It's not normally a star someone would choose.'

'I took a year off from school to travel the world and watch the stars with one of my professors. He was a genius when he looked into the sky. Could tell you just about anything.' Skye was lost in the expanses of space, reminiscing dreamily. 'He was one of my favorite professors.'

'Hm...'

'What about Sirius?'

'The dog who behaves oddly in the heat of summer.'

'Regulus?'

'One of the brightest stars in the sky. Even in the blackest nights Sirius will watch from the heavens and over the world.'

'Poetic.'

'My professor.'

'Ah.'

A lazy hour passed curled under the heavenly gaze, but nothing could have made the pair happier. Lillian had never had the chance to truly look into the sky. She had known the names, the constellations, the placement, but she had never had the chance to test her skills. She confused some stars with others, but Skye would correct her kindly, telling her the stories of his stars and constellations, the bodies of the log dead warriors and the eternal loves of the immortalized heroes of ancient. Sagittarius, Ursa Major, Vega, Deneb, Altair, the fading faces of summer.

But the season was not right for star gazing and soon the two decide that the time and the month were not in their favor, and giggled their way down the hill. Skye guided her back to her home, and soon they were standing at her door.

'I haven't had that much fun in a long time,' Lillian chuckled, holding her elbows as she stared down at the ground. She felt as though she was being given her childhood back when she was with Skye. The innocence was refreshing.

'Neither have I,' admitted the boy, 'but I'm glad I did. I hope I see you soon, Lilly.'

Lillian tilted her head back, star gazing in his aurora borealis eyes, and letting a slow, tender smile fall onto her lips. 'So do I.'

The moment that followed was not that of the awkward first date goodbye, but a more serene adieu, the parting of two close friends. Lillian rocked back and forth in her boots before catching Skye's eye. He gave her his mischievous smirk and leaned in, placing one tender peck upon her cheek before stepping back with a dulled goodbye, and set off down the path. Lillian smiled into the darkness before she fell through the door, twirling round to her bed with intentional clumsiness. Her body was free. It was the first time she had ever been truly alive in the small town. Nothing was holding her back.


	7. Chapter VII

Well, if that didn't take forever. I hate writing notes, but I feel bad. I'm lazy. It's the truth. I say that a whole lot though, huh? This chapter is kind of weird. I'll be honest. But okay. I'm going with it. Roll with the punches. (I'm back this time! Working on the next chapter as we... I.. write. Yup!) Read and Review please! And thanks to those who've added me. It makes me so happy. I thrive on comments and adds! Please, keep it up!

* * *

'I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.'

After years of shy flirting and slow courtship Claire and Marlin were at the altar. They leaned in shyly, letting a deliberately slow peck pass between them before turning out to a cheering church. Because the Valley didn't have a wedding place they had decided to wed in the church in Mineral Town, where all of their friends had gathered. They skipped down the aisle together, holding their hands up to protect themselves from a shower of petals, but they managed to hold on to one another the whole way down.

The large wooden doors were flung open when the couple reached the door, and they fled down the road, laughing all the way until they could no longer be seen. No one in the church seemed to mind that the couple had disappeared and all the wedding guests went about their business, talking and laughing amongst themselves.

For whatever reason Lillian hadn't been beside Claire at the altar. Instead she was at the back of the church where no one seemed to notice her. She had her hands folded behind her back and was leaned against the cold stone walls. She looked down, seeming to notice for the first time her JS collection gown. White satin... she didn't remember putting it on at all. And wasn't it a little bit too much like a wedding gown?

She shifted her gaze to the swarming mass of guests instead, but there was little to watch. There were couples shuffling awkwardly around, the priest of the town looked like he was baptizing a child, which she found odd. Muffy and Griffin were lovingly hitting each other's noses while Celia sniffed in the corner. Vesta was laughing at nothing.

A sudden flash of white to her right turned her and there was Skye. She tried to greet him but the words that fell from her mouth were unfamiliar and she felt as though her tongue had bloated to twice its normal size. But Skye smiled at her, apparently comprehending her swollen speech. He greeted her back and then leaned in, kissing her lightly.

When he pulled away he placed his hand on her waist, and, to Lillian's great surprise, she could feel his finger's against her flesh. She looked down, tracing his arm until it branched into five slender fingers lying along a fine black-lace lining that ran along the edge of her corset. A corset? Yes, Lillian's divine satin Goddess gown had fallen away, dissolved completely, revealing a scandalous black corset with red lace and an opaque kind of mesh that showed her breasts perfectly. The corset stopped just high enough and then came its matching garter that hung free of any tights. Her eyes shot up from the black D&G mesh ankle boots and flashed wildly about the room. No one seemed to notice. Then they were back to Skye, pleading confusedly for an answer. But the man gave none; instead he took her chin and then her lips. She melted away, puddling on the floor, just a mass of flesh, blood and black lace, the Dolce & Gabbana shoes standing proudly where she had been.

* * *

Lillian woke up from the dream, startled.

'Well that was awkward,' she muttered, throwing her feet over the edge of the bed. She sat there for a moment, resting her elbows on her knees and rubbing her eyes. It was still very early, the sun hadn't come up yet, but she was awake and didn't feel like going back to sleep. A quick glance at the clock showed that Claire would be awake in a few minutes, so Lillian hopped out of bed, throwing on a shirt that she had found on the floor, and began to make breakfast in the dark.

Toast and hot milk were the only things that Lillian thought she could stomach. What she really wanted was coffee, but she hadn't even whiffed the stuff since the morning she had left the city. Apparently country folk drank nothing but tea. Pulling the milk from the fridge Lillian changed her mind. Tea sounded therapeutic.

Lillian dropped the milk back into Claire's magical fridge (she had no idea how any of the produce in there stayed fresh so long, but Claire swore some of it was still from her first year on the farm. 'I haven't had time to clear it out,' she had giggled when Lillian's eyes popped out) and turned back to her toast. Since Claire didn't have a toaster she had turned the oven on and placed the bread in, leaving the oven cracked a little bit.

Soon the toast was out and Claire was stepping sleepily out of bed.

'Why are you up?' yawned the blond as she slid into a pair of slippers. 'You were out,' she stretched her arms above her head, popping her back, 'super late. I was sure I wouldn't see you today.'

'I'm not tired,' Lillian said, tossing a piece of toast with marmalade at her friend who almost dropped it onto her bed sheets. The younger girl frowned at Lillian before biting hard into the toast. 'If I had missed that...' threatened the girl. Lillian just laughed her off.

'You aren't going to ask me what I was doing last night?'

Claire shot out of bed like a quail from its hole. Before Lillian knew what was happening Claire was on top of her. Lillian's toast flew across the room, splattering into a wall. Oscar was on it in seconds, yipping happily. Lillian, sprawled out on the floor, was cursing rapidly in a kind of English-Polish hybrid. Claire had her feet locked onto the insides of Lillian's legs, and her tiny hands pinning back her arms. For a tiny girl she was very strong.

After several minutes of Lillian threatening and swearing Claire said 'Alright, spill. I saw the things in the bathroom and your cute clothes pulled out, but I know that you weren't out with Grey because he _never_ leaves his place after seven, even if he's desperate. It takes forever to get over here. So Lilly,' she said, a smile plastered evilly across her normally demure face, 'what were you doing?'

'Claire, get off me, you terrible little girl,' growled the woman with friendly anger.

'Tell me who you were out with,' sniffed the blond, letting Lillian's hands go and cross her own over her chest.

Just then a knock came at the door and, without much warning, in tripped Marlin. He looked ready to apologize for falling in so brashly when he noticed the two half naked women, the one mounted atop the other. His face glowed vibrant red within a moment, but he could not seem to move. His lip hung dumbly open and his eyes had grown thrice their normal size, quite a feat, Lillian would later think.

Claire bounced off her friend in seconds, yanking madly at the hem of her oversized t-shirt, trying to cover her nicely shaped legs and strawberry underwear from the man she loved. His face glowed with twice the brilliance when she moved, for he could now see that Lillian was wearing nothing but a worn spaghetti-strap that was too small, had no bra to support her happy bosom, and, between her partially splayed legs, a lacy black bikini (Lillian pushed herself up with one elbow and at that moment was very glad she waxed).

'Marlin!' shouted a very startled Claire, still trying to hide her body.

Two oversized eyes fell back onto the half-bent farm girl before he turned around, covering his eyes with one and hand, as though scarred, the other gripping his elbow.

'I didn't see anything! I swear!' came the curt reply. His voice was several octaves higher than it ought to have been, making him seem rather silly.

In seconds Claire's back was slammed against the door and she was shouting something about letting him in 'in just a second.' She made a mad dash for her clothing chest, pulling out a pair of overalls, jumping into them, then, as she made her way toward the door, hurling the blanket on Lillian's bed at the still sprawled brunette.

The door banged against the wall with tremendous force, causing the cat and the dog to go into little fits of hysteria, chasing each other around until they jetted between Claire's legs and out into the open.

'Marlin!' called the girl, rather desperately. Lillian took the moment to pull the blanket around her and slink toward her own clothing. 'Work clothes, work clothes, work clothes,' she repeated, search somewhat blindly for them.

'Marlin, I'm so sorry,' cried the blonde, tugging on his sleeve until he was dragged into the house. 'I-we-well.' From there her muttering explanation became unintelligible, but that suited Marlin fine, for he too was at a loss for comprehensive speech. They babbled at each other for a minute, forgetting completely the woman who was soon dressed until she was standing at Marlin's side. He jumped uncharacteristically and looked at her as though he expected her to be doing something obscene.

'Claire was trying to get me to tell her something,' Lillian said, much calmer after watching the two buffoon their way into confusion. 'Rather forcefully. It's not at all what it looked like.'

Claire nodded frantically, pointing her fingers at Lillian and then back to herself, trying to tell Marlin that what her friend said was indeed true. Her tiny feet stomped and her mouth flailed soundlessly until Marlin, maybe out of pity, rapidly nodded his head.

'Are you okay?' Lillian asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. He shivered under her touch, still shocked by what he saw and nodded his head again, pulling away carefully. 'Are you sure?' she snickered. 'You look terrified.'

Nodding again and again, Marlin turned to Claire, never quite taking his eyes off the impetuous brunette.

'Er... Claire... Celia was wondering if you were busy today... she... Lillian, what are you doing?'

'Leaving.'

'But-' and she was gone. Having a girl on top of her was enough excitement for one day. She decided that since it was still early she could work on the farm until Claire rejoined her. She had grabbed an old corduroy coat that had been falling out of her dresser and headed toward the chicken coop knowing that being pecked at by hungry hen would help ease her mind, but as soon as she was through the door she buckled over with laughter. Of all of the things that Marlin could walk in on it was a hot, juicy lesbian porno. She was sure that was exactly what he had been thinking, and she knew that if that was true he would either be awkward around the two of them for the next few weeks or he would be pawing at her in the house right now, ridiculously turned on. Lillian straightened herself out, still giggling, and starting to feed the startled chickens. Knowing Marlin he would avoid the two of them, but she had a feeling that somewhere inside of him he was a little bit turned on. She smiled at that, feeling the persistent claws of pride digging into her.

It didn't take very long to feed and brush the chickens, and soon she was in the barn, chatting up the livestock. About halfway through Claire's morning chores the girl herself jumped through the door, lips bright and puffy and eyes glazed over.

'He kissed me,' she sighed dreamily, floating through the piles of stray hey and landing prettily on a stair step that led up to the loft.

One of the cow's jaw dropped and hung, giant pools of saliva puddling around one of its hoofs.

'Option number one is never right,' she mused out loud, her brain not properly functioning. 'Are you serious?'

'Yeah. We should let him walk in on us fighting more often.'

Lillian burst out laughing for the second time that day and walked over to her, wrapping her arm around her bemused friend's freckled shoulders. After a minute Claire joined in with a disbelieving laugh, hugging her friend from the side. After a few minutes of animal annoying laughter and some defensive braying the girls turned toward each other, Claire still blushing with happiness.

'I can't believe that happened. He actually kissed you?'

'Can't you tell?' Claire muttered, brandishing her swollen pink lips, batting her sultry dream eyes and holding her arm across he body as she swayed girlishly on one bent toe. Lillian laughed softly, her mind racing with joy.

'I'm happy for you Claire. Er… what exactly happened though?'

Claire turned her eyes to the ground, bashfully rubbing her foot in the dirt. A shy smile wiggled onto her pink face, as she began to regale her friend on the events of only minutes before.

'Well… so… you and I were fighting and he came in and you explained what happened and then you ran away…' Lillian nodded politely as her friend bashfully struggled through all of the things that Lillian had been present for. She understood. 'Well… Marlin just kind of stared after you for a minute, and I couldn't move so we were just there when he turned back to me and then we just looked at each other…'

A long pause ensued, and Lillian wondered if her friend was trying to reenact the scene.

'So… he finally opened his mouth and then he closed it again and then he opened it and closed it and he did that three or four more times and then he said "Oh, Goddess Claire," and he wrapped his arms around me and he kissed me.'

Claire continued stuttering through her description of her reciprocating Marlin's kiss and the increasing passion and her eventually leading Marlin across the room to the couch.

'I sleep there,' Lillian interjected, punching her friend relentlessly in the arm. Claire exclaimed ('Ow! You b-') and rubbed the spot where she had been wounded, laughing playfully, and explained that all they had done was kiss.

'It's called making out, Claire,' corrected the older girls with a wink, 'And you have officially snagged him. He will _always_ cherish that memory and he will _always_ think that _you_, my little mink, are _irresistibly_ sexy.'

'Claire!'

'It's true. It's just the way that men work.'

'Well… doesn't that mean that he would think you were… you know, sexy too?'

'He's always thought that,' Lillian said as she causally threw a brush at Claire and resumed milking the cows. 'All men do. But we're not compatible. Well, that and he loves you, but, you know, that's kind of obvious.'

'I don't know if I should kill you or agree,' Claire blushed, stumbling over to one of the cows that had already been washed and restarting the process.

'So, he obviously left. But did he tell you why he came by?'

'Um…' Claire hit her head against the cow and started giggling as the beast mooed angrily. 'Yeah. He wanted to thank me for the date and apologize to talking to me so late… and then he asked if we could go out again sometime. It was all kind of weird though because, you know, we were lying on the couch-'

'I sleep there.'

'And I was on top of him and we were panting and… well… I'm sure you know.'

'I'm not sure if I should hit you or agree,' Lillian said, throwing Claire's response back at her. Claire giggled and turned back to smile at her friend, her face glowing with love. Lillian's face softened and she smiled softly at her love smitten friend. Even though she and Claire were newly acquainted she already felt a large part of her health was dependent on the young farmer's happiness. Watching Claire smiling and acting so love drunk was intoxicating for Lillian, and she wondered privately if she would ever be as happy as Claire was with Marlin. Then she turned back to the cow, finishing her chores as they spoke of Marlin, never noticing the vein of Lillian's life.

* * *

That night Lillian and Claire stayed in and watched old movies on Claire's beaten old television set, chatting and giggling and bonding together. Claire had offered to go jogging with her friend, but Lillian had insisted that vegging sounded like more fun. 'My legs are a little sore anyways,' Lillian had lied when the farmer tried to press her into running. Truthfully she didn't want to share Skye with her just yet. It seemed that he had been right: a little bit of mystery made everything more enticing.

They ate their dinner early and after finishing a repeat of an old detective show and some obscure movie from the late 50s they decided to tuck in for the night. 'Early to bed, early to rise,' Claire had said as she pulled on an old t-shirt and slipped into bed. Within twenty minute Claire was asleep and Lillian followed soon after, both exhausted by the day's excitement.

Lillian woke the next morning to an empty house and vivid memories of the same dream that she had had the night before, only this time she recalled with some inhibitions, her corset had no mesh to cover her exposed breasts and Skye and one of his friendly hands had slipped a little bit above her hip.

Annoyed and still a little bit tired Lillian dragged herself out of bed, sliding comfortable into a dress that reminded her of the fifties and a pair of battered Cole Hahn's that she had "borrowed" from one of her ex-boyfriends. She felt cute and sassy as she brushed and styled her hair into a high ponytail, and almost certain that her stupid dream was the side effect of not having had sex in over a month. Lillian sighed as she walked up to the counter where she was greeted by another of Claire's small notes.

_Finished the chores._

_With Lumina._

_Sheep tomorrow!_

_Wake up already._

_Love,_

_Claire_

_PS Did you bake a cake yesterday?_

Lillian reread the note once or twice, puzzled by the post script. She hadn't baked a cake in years… not since she had lived with her father. Claire was vaguely aware of this, so she wondered why the girl would even ask. Lillian's head snapped to the fridge and for a moment she simple stared at it, waiting for it to reveal to her all the secrets of the universe. Finding no answers in its exterior she took one or two tentative steps toward the metal box before pressing her hand to the cool handle and pulling it open.

It was hard to tell amongst the chaotic clutter of Claire's storage just what it was that she had been talking about. There had to have been at least three cakes that she saw straight away, but Lillian was almost certain that they had been there the day before. She dug around for a moment, pushing milk jugs and glass jars to the side, but she could see nothing out of the ordinary, so, feeling that Claire's puppy love might have been affecting her bodily functions, Lillian grabbed two eggs and some cheese, shut the door, and folded into the kitchen.

That was when she realized what she had missed.

On the other side of the blender and the pots and pans, in a place that Lillian could not have seen from where she had walked in moments ago, was a small, black-brown disc, rising an inch or two from the counter and jetting tectonic plates from its surface. Lillian stared at the cake with mild awe for a moment or two before lifting the cake up on its platter. She had intended to simply stare at it, but she found a small envelope tucked beneath and she could not resist. Driven by disbelief, intrigue and the slightest bit of fright, Lillian opened the envelope and slipped out the letter inside.

_Beauty,_

She scoffed at that a little bit, but biting her lip she read on.

_My sincerest apologize for not returning to you this memento sooner, but I believe it is worth the wait. And of course, there's the mystery._

She laughed with mocking incredulity.

_As you can see I did not forget that I promised you more, and although you did not ask outright, here it is. I'll admit, I had a friend drop it off for me, so please, do not be alarmed._

_I wanted to thank you though, Lillian, for such a wonderful night. I haven't spent such a beautiful evening with a charming woman in too long it seems, but I think the wait was worth the treasure that I've found in you._

Here Lillian gagged a little bit.

_But there is one thing I would ask of you, dearest Lillian, and that is if you would meet me once more by the Goddess' Pond Friday evening at our normal time. I would ask you to wear something nice, but I already know that you will. Unfortunately I will be out of town tonight, so I must wait until I may see your beautiful smile once more._

_Your Obedient Servant,_

_Skye_

Having read the letter and cut herself a slice of cake, Lillian sat at the dining table, pondering the man who had sent her such an outdated letter. He was such an exquisite specimen that Lillian would not have readily given him up for his dramatic tastes, but he did come off as a bit over-the-top. Glancing down at the paper just reaffirmed her thoughts, for his handwriting was long and scrawling and the paper that he had written on was a little bit tattered, but a fine parchment and looked to be several decades older than either of them. Lillian laughed lightly at it as she stood and washed her plate, covering the remaining cake (much to the disappointment of Oscar who had been circling her for the better part of the morning in search of pitying scraps), but she could not shake her small doubts in Skye's personality. In two days, she decided, she would have to do something about it all. After all, who else did she have in Forget-Me-Not Valley?


End file.
